Page 31 of Aftermath
* * *
My hand hung off the couch, and I’d completely lost the blanket at some point in the night. I almost rolled off before catching myself and realizing where I was. I’d crashed hard after Mallory left.
I stood and made my way to the kitchen to get the coffee brewing and breakfast started. My fridge was bordering on empty for groceries, but I managed to find some strawberries and yogurt. The smell of brewing coffee filled my apartment, and I inhaled deeply.
The second best scent next to the salty air by the ocean.
My hand held a mug steady as I poured the coffee into it. I found oat milk in my fridge and added a splash to the cup. Steam rose from it, and I placed it aside on the small island that made up the center of my kitchen while I ate most of my breakfast.
A meow from beneath me pulled my attention away before I could take that first blissful sip of caffeine.
Alonzo sat at my feet, his green eyes bearing into me.
“What?” I asked, and he meowed again.“You have food,” I assured him, pointing to the full bowl only feet away from him.
Birdie came trotting out of my bedroom.
“You slept on my bed, didn’t you?”
She plopped down next to Alonzo and stared up at me. I picked up my coffee and finally took a sip. The warmth brushed against my throat as I swallowed.
“Not you too,” I groaned. “I have work. I don’t have time for this.”
I probably should never have the time for full conversations with my two cats.
Maybe I was losing my mind. I was talking to my cats and about to meet an FBI agent, one who drove me crazy in the single hour I spent with him, who made me feel like my senses were all jumbled.
No, I promised to never do this to myself again.
I’d had enough of men for a single lifetime. My last relationship had been three years ago, and the years following, I spent every second working on myself and rebuilding the shattered pieces. I couldn’t do that again.
Mallory was right. I was a mess the last time, and I would be damned if I allowed that to happen again. My heart was off limits. The only thing I was committing to was finishing the now-lukewarm cup of coffee and spending every hour of the day working harder to become museum director.
I hurried to my room and threw on a maroon sun dress. My work flats sat next to my bedroom door, and I slipped them on.Within five minutes, I was clothed and completed my speed morning routine I reserved for days I was late.
And checking the stove clock as I walked out, I was most definitely late.
I was ten minutes behind schedule.Thankfully, I was always the first to work and likely still would be.
“I will see you both later,” I said to the two felines still watching me with their judging, knowing stares.
* * *
My phone vibrated in my purse on my walk to work. I hesitated to pull it out, afraid I would see Francis’ name flash across the screen to yell at me for being late. Guilt got the better of me, and I fished through my bag for it.
My mom’s contact popped up on the screen.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, answering the call.
“Oh, Lenore! Wonderful,” she cooed into the phone.
I was in for it.
“I was so delighted when Calvin told us you would be joining us for dinner next week,” she went on.
Shit.
He’d failed to mention the part where my parents were also coming. Did I forget a holiday or birthday? I racked my brain for anything significant this month, but nothing came to mind.
