Page 19 of The Photograph

That’s not even late! “Six p.m. actually. Then I went to the gym for an hour.”

“Forget it,” she says, and the line goes dead.

I stare at my handset, blood bubbling. The guy down the aisle lifts his head again and gives me a half smile.

Holy shit.I run my hair through my short curls. I’ve only been back in the country for two weeks, and every single thing is some complicated melodrama. Do I attract dramas like a magnet? Do I matter to anyone? To my family I’m a rescuer and a meal ticket; to guys I’m a fun fuck or a wild night out; to the people in the office, I’m a punching bag who gets blamed for everything. Can no one sortanythingout for themselves? No one is the least bit interested in me.Myproblems.Myworries.

I jab the previous number on the screen and listen to it ringing before it goes to voicemail. Why am I calling Alex back exactly? Mr. Responsible, that’s me. Hanging up, I grab the first bag of salad I can lay my hands on and head to the cashier. I just need to calm the hell down and veg out tonight and not take any more calls.

My phone vibrates again as I’m paying for my groceries. I don’t even look at the number as I answer.

“Des speaking,” I growl.

“Des. Sorry I missed your callback.”

“Look, Alex …”

“Can I come over?”

“What?” We go from an anonymous bar to questionable pictures to this? “No.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry about that picture I sent you of me with another guy …”

“It’s okay. I sent you one first. It was a warranted response. We’re even. Now I have to …”

“I feel like I should explain.”

“I don’t need an explanation. It was great to meet you, Alex, but I …”

“Please?”

Oh,fuck. When people ask like that, I’m not good. I chew my lip. Is this some kind of stupid game? God knows I’ve experienced enough of those. And, Des, you don’t want to listen to someone else’s priorities this evening, something that’s important to them where you’ll have to sit and nod in all the right places. My reflection in the dark glass window behind the till shows a good-looking, pissed-off blond guy frowning back at me.

“Bring an extra steak. I’ll text you the address,” I growl.

My breath catches in my throat when I fling open the apartment door an hour later and after Marla has disappeared to one of her boyfriend’s fights. Alex’s brown curls are a wild, just-washed tumble around his head, and I trail down his body past the tight-fitting sports jacket to hitched-up sweatpants and trainers. My eyes snag on his socks.On his ankle.

He brings his hand out from behind his back and holds out a red rose. I open my mouth and close it again. No one has ever brought me a red rose; maybe I’ve never even hadflowers. His smile is a little unsure, a bit hesitant, and the longer I don’t take the rose, the more it falters. He glances down at his hand.

“Is this wrong?” he says, and something about the way his voice wobbles is so much like the guy I met in the bar that first night that a deep warmth wells up.

I pluck it from his fingers and lean in to kiss his cheek, smelling tangerines and bad decisions. It’s been three days since I got laid.But bizarrely something other than sex would be good tonight.Someone to listen. In his other hand is a bag of groceries, and a hot thrill buzzes through me: He listened and brought something. Taking it from him, I step back and gesture him inside.

Clearly realizing a new person is on her territory, Mitzi barrels over the floor, a tiny ball of fur with a red ribbon on top. She can’t see where she’s going when her hair is this long, and sure enough, she tumbles over her paws, rolling up to Alex’s polished shoes with a soft whine. Yes, Mitzi, throw yourself at his feet, why don’t you? You and me both.

“Oh my, Des. Who’s this?”

“Meet my alter ego, Miss Mitzi.”

“Oh my God, she’s socute.” He sweeps her up, and she wriggles, tail going hell-for-leather, licking his face. “Oh, Jesus,” he says, stretching his head back, laughing, and she squirms even harder trying to reach him.

I laugh. “There’s no escape.”

“Des, you have thebestdog.”

Gah! He knows how to butter me up. As I start forward to rescue him, his eyes latch on to mine then drop to my lips before flickering up again and a small smile twists his mouth. I grin and he closes his eyes, burying his face in her coat.I wish he’d buryhis face inmyfur. A giggle rises up my throat.Good God, Des, behave.

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