Page 4 of The Player's Obsession

I text Lucinda I’m on my way. In fifteen minutes, I’m at her house and let myself in.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” She holds a tissue to her nose and blows.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m too tired to get up,” she confesses. She has long black hair that’s clipped to her head. She’s lying on the sofa wearing pajamas and a pink bathrobe.

“Do you have a fever?”

“Probably, I can’t tell. It’s not life-threatening.”

I enter the kitchen, find a bowl, pour soup into it, and retrieve a spoon from her clean utensils in the dishwasher.

I deliver it to her. Her face perks up at the sight of my soup.

“That smells good,” she says as she takes the bowl from me and reaches for the spoon.

I chuckle. She’s starving. I’m sure she’ll feel better after the nourishment.

I glance at the TV and see a familiar rom-com playing before I sit on a chair across from her.

“So, what’s the job?”

“He’s a grumpy football player but should be at practice. I doubt you’ll see him.”

“Oh, great. Well, I don’t have any desire to see a grumpy man, football player or not.”

“Right. Well, he is handsome, there’s that.” She’s concentrating on her soup.

“I have his address and code to his door here somewhere,” she says, but she’s too busy slurping the soup to find it.

“Okay.”

“Well. Do the usual. I’m sure there’s no problem. It’s the holidays, and it makes some people lonely.”

“So now he’s lonely and grumpy. Great.”

“This soup is fantastic,” she exclaims before dropping her spoon in the empty bowl.

“You want more?”

Her eyes light up and if she didn’t have a runny nose, I’m sure she’d be drooling.

“Yes, please. Thank you so much. You’re the best.”

“No problem.” I take the bowl from her, refill it, and return it to her. “Any movies to watch? I know how you love to binge.”

“No, and it’s killing me.”

“How is work going?”

“I have a few girls working this week, but we’re usually off. However, Oliver is important. I get tons of referrals from the single guys on the team.”

“Yeah, I see how you did that—and it’s no coincidence that he’s single?” She’s so busy wolfing down the warm soup I think she won’t comment.

"Well, you could do a lot worse, Penelope," she asserts, straightening up with a newfound vigor that suggests she's feeling better. "You should be out there, living, not buried in work until you drop."

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