“Taking care of Chupey when I’m gone?”
She paled.
I laughed and waved my hand in the air. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t ask that of you. I’ve been researching no-kill rescues and foster programs. That’s actually why I was late today. I was on the phone with one for Chupey.”
She eased into her seat. “Oh, well…”
I leveled her with a look.
“Thank God. I’m sorry, Sloane, but I just…”
“Hate dogs?”
She shuddered and nodded. “Ever since I got attacked by a chihuahua, I can’t bring myself to go near them.”
We sat for a long while, just talking, and the server eventually came by to take our orders. I settled on a mimosa. It was after five o’clock somewhere. While I drank and Becca picked at her salad, I told her more about my diagnosis. She tried to offer me words of wisdom about keeping my head up and bringing good things into my life with a positive mindset. Too bad those things never worked for me.
I highly doubted they’d save me now.
Becca wrapped her arms around me as we stood outside the restaurant saying our goodbyes.
“Thanks for showing up today,” she murmured against my ear. “It was really good to see you.”
“I wasn’t good company,” I admitted.
“You are always good company.” She narrowed her eyes. “When you’re on time.”
There it was, the last little dig she had to get in. I squeezed her a bit tighter before leaning back.
“Please take care of yourself. And take that job. I’m serious, Sloane. You take that job and don’t worry about me,” Becca added.
“I already said I would take it.” I tugged my shirt back in place.
Now I sounded petulant on top of everything.
Becca set me with a look before heading off down the street, her hips swinging like a pendulum as she walked. I stepped farther toward the curb, lifting my hand to hail a cab. The roar of a motorcycle ripped through the low hum of the street noise.
I jerked around, staring toward the corner where a trail of smoke rose. The motorcycle’s rear wheels spun uselessly on the asphalt before it caught traction and bolted forward. I narrowed my eyes as it disappeared around the corner. Not sure why it seemed like a message for me, but the sight sent a ping of warning through my body and my hindsight tingled.
That couldn’t be good.