Page 95 of Taking Chances

I’m in awe he did that. Read one of my favorite books and made a fantasy come to life.

But it’s so much more than that. The way he pushes me out of my comfort zone. The way he gives me exactly what I need. The way he sets me free of the shackles of expectations, letting me be who I want to be.

How typical of me. I huff a loud breath.

It’s purely sexual between us, and here I am—romanticizing the whole thing.

Silly Anne. You never learn, do you?

Luckily, the images of tonight are powerful enough to snap me out of the self-deprecating funk, and after replaying the whole night four times in my head, I manage to fall asleep.

I sleep in on Sunday,but when I wake up, Luna isn’t here, pushing her ass in my face or massaging me with her little cat paws. It’s weird. She does that every single morning.

A bad feeling starts in my gut as I leap from the bed.

“Ps-ps-ps-ps,” I call to her, but there’s no answer.

“Luna!” I scream when I notice her limp body on my living room floor.

Her tongue sticks out, her eyes open but unresponsive. She’s breathing, luckily, her little cat heart still pumping which is the only thing keeping me sane.

I search frantically for my phone, dialing the first person that comes to mind.

“Hey,” his deep voice fills the speaker.

“Lennox,” I sob into the phone, but he doesn’t let me continue.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He’s breathing heavy now, as if rushing.

“It’s Luna. Something’s wrong with her. I can’t wake her up.” Panic laces each word.

“I’m already in my car, Firecracker. Just find her transporter.”

Inhale. Exhale. I try to calm my breath down.

“OK,” I murmur.

By the time he gets here, Luna woke up but she’s not her usual self. She looks like she’s on drugs, barely able to stand, her body swaying to one side.

He greets me with a short but deep hug, his scent giving me a sense of calm.

“You were the first one I thought to call,” I say, apologetically.

“Of course. Let’s go, baby.”

He called me baby.

He grabs Luna’s transporter, careful not to shake it, and we head to the vet clinic.

His huge arm is wrapped around my shoulders while we wait for her name to be called, keeping me from completely freaking out.

“Luna Bailey,” the vet’s assistant calls and we scurry inside. I thought I would be going in alone, but Lennox follows behind, not letting me out of his sight.

The vet asks questions. Questions I answer on autopilot because I’m not fully there. She does some tests on Luna, examining her thoroughly.

When she’s done, she shoots me a small smile.

“Luna will be fine,” the vet says, and relief washes over me. “She had a seizure, but I don’t see any permanent damage.”

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