Page 39 of Mafia Captor

“Who? Pete?”

“Giant man. Bald head. Navy suit?” I ask.

“Mmm hmm,” she says. “Yeah, that’s Pete. He’s huge but he’s a big softy.”

“Well, he was waiting for me, physically stopping me from going in. Then he took me down this long, creepy hallway—”

“Oh, the Annex. Icky. Yeah, no one likes that part of the building. We haven’t renovated it yet.”

I continue my story. “And then there Boston was, sitting behind a desk, telling me he was my new boss.”

“He was. I mean, he is. I didn’t know you were going to do something to get yourself kidnapped and have to live with the guy. But I would have thought that would have just sped up the process.” She waits for me to reply.

But I have no idea what she’s talking about. “What process?”

“I’m a matchmaker, babe. That is the one and only reason I let him have you, even when a Pomeranian was involved. I had a feeling in my gut that the two of you should be together. And my gut? It’s never wrong.”

The information she’s sharing with me fully sinks in. “You gave me up because you thought he and I were going to get together? That’s crazy.”

“No, what’s crazy is that you aren’t on the other end of this phone thanking me right now.”

I’m only following about half of this conversation. “Thanking you for what?”

She gasps. “Don’t tell me you’re not having the best sex of your life?”

I whisper back into the phone. “We’re not having… you-know-what.”

She takes a breath. “That’s… unusual.”

“What? Why? Why would that be unusual? What do you mean?” I say.

“Well, it’s been weeks. I mean, you’re living there, running his house, eating dinner with him every night. You two are obviously attracted to one another. I was pretty sure I walked you through your baggage at Charlie’s wedding, so you had no holdbacks. Sex normally would have happened by now. But even without the sex, the big thing should have happened…”

Gosh, do I even want to know what the “big thing” is? I take a breath, steeling my nerves and preparing to dive off the edge of the pool, feeling like a parrot, just repeating her words as questions. “What would have happened by now? What’s the big thing?”

“You know,” she says. “The ‘L’ word.”

“‘L’ word? Lice?” That’s stupid. Makes no sense. But it’s the only word that pops into my head.

Dead silence on the other end of the line.

Finally, she says, “What did you just say? Mice? Did you see a mouse or something?”

Lopsy’s lying on the kitchen floor. She rolls her big droopy eyes up at me, wondering why I didn’t choose her name for my “L” word.

“Yes,” I say, finding a bit of beef jerky from the pantry shelf. I give it to the old hound, hoping she’ll keep this convo just between us. “I saw a mouse. Boston really should get some cats.”

“He’s more of a dog person,” she says.

“I got that impression.” I give Lopsy an apology pat. “What’s the ‘L’ word?”

She speaks with reverence. “Only the most important word in the world. Love.”

“Oh, gosh.” The ‘L’ word makes my tummy flip, my heart launch into my throat.

Why is my body responding like this when we couldn’t be further from love?

Her voice drops to a whisper. “I mean, have you guys even kissed or anything since you’ve been there?”

---