It was agreed upon.  Paul needed to sort things out with Charlette before Jemma would invest any time and effort into anything resembling a relationship.  Which made perfect sense to him, since it wasn’t fair to either of them with a cloud of uncertainty hanging over him and his young tenant.  Was that all she was?  A tenant?  There were those who would casually and insensitively refer to her as a “fuck buddy.”  He knew she was far more than that.<br/><br/><i>Oh?  So tell me, Old Man, what else is she?</i><br/><br/>A weighted pause.<br/><br/><i>Ain’t gonna answer me, are you, Old Man?</i><br/><br/>Got that right.<br/><br/>Deep into the night (Paul was too lazy to roll over to see what time it was), he heard a car pull into the driveway.  Had to be Charlette, cuz it sure as hell wasn’t Jemma.  Not at this hour, anyway.<br/><br/>His mind could see himself rolling outta bed to see how she was doing.  His body, however, was not cooperating at all.