I nodded and he smiled. It was nearly as good as Tor’s.
“Give your man a kiss, yeah?”
Oh boy.
I nodded. Bit my lip, went up on my toes and gave him a kiss. His mouth opened over mine and he gave me a deeper, wetter one. I managed to return it which meant it unfortunately got deeper, wetter and hotter leaving me thinking it wasn’t weird, it was just different. In my opinion not as good as Tor’s but also not bad by a long shot.
His lips left mine and when I opened my eyes, I saw him quickly shutter the surprise in his.
Weird. What was that?
Then, after searching my face for a second, he kissed my forehead.
Wow. That was sweet too.
Then he looked me in the eyes. “I’ll call you later, babe.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Later, um… love.”
He grinned at me, gave me a squeeze, let me go and walked out the door.
I collapsed on my sofa.
After I recuperated from Noc’s visit (while staring at the TV cabinet like it would explode at any minute and take me with it in its ball of flame), I made myself a fried bologna sandwich with three pieces of bologna and a melted square of American cheese on top. I toasted the bread and smothered it with mustard. Then I made myself another one. Then I ate a quarter bag of Cheetos. Then I popped a Diet Coke.
After sucking some back and stopping myself from hyperventilating, I called work.
“The Arthur Broderick Agency, this is Esther, can I help you?”
Oh crap.
Some chick named Esther answered my extension.
“Um, Esther, is Mr. Arthur there?” I asked.
“Can I tell him who’s calling?”
“Cora Goode,” I answered.
“One moment,” she replied, I waited, listened to bad music and then, faster than I expected, Dave Arthur, my boss, was on the phone.
“Cora?”
“Dave, hello, I –”
“Cora, thank God. Everyone’s been worried sick about you!”
Thank God? Worried sick?
“Um…”
“You were no call, no show. You’re never no call, no show. Hell, you’re never no show! Phoebe went to your apartment, said it looked like a disaster hit it and your car was gone.”
Phoebe, my best friend in and out of the office (therefore she had a key to my apartment) came to my place?
And my car was gone?
“For weeks, we’ve been phoning the police and hospitals,” he continued.
Oh dear.
“Why didn’t you phone my folks?” I asked stupidly because I should be thankful he didn’t. “They’re my emergency contacts.”
“I couldn’t phone Dara and Forrest and worry them if something wasn’t right with you,” he said, sounding aghast and I was grateful that my Mom and Dad knew my boss and they had formed a bond over multiple games of Apples to Apples. “Especially when Phoebe went back, saw some big guy walking out of your apartment, she says he looked like he was living there and when she tried her key, it didn’t work. She thought you’d moved out or something really bad had happened, like you got hooked up with this dude and he was bad news. God, I’m so fucking glad you phoned and sound all right.”
What?
“Dave, don’t you think you’d get a call if something bad went down with me?” I asked stupid, stupid, stupidly.
He paused. Then he asked, “Yeah, I would. So where have you been?”
Stupid!
“Well, I’m calling to say…” Shit! “Something bad went down with me.”
“Oh my God! What? Are you okay?”
Seriously, this was why The Arthur Broderick Agency weren’t doing all that great. Dave was awesome, he was a creative mastermind when it came to advertising and he could charm a snake but he was mostly a flake and Boyd Broderick wasn’t much better. They were college roommates and they still wore beer bong hats and got toasted in their offices frequently.
“I…” I started, my mind searching then I came up with it, “got in an accident.”
“Holy shit! Were you hurt?”
“No, I mean, yes. I had a head injury.”
“Oh, Cora, I can’t believe it! That sucks! I can’t believe Dara and Forrest didn’t phone. They went it alone. That’s awful. We could have, I don’t know, sent a fruit basket or something. Are you okay?”
“Um, well, I had amnesia for awhile so obviously, uh… forgot where I worked…” Pure soap opera, was he going to buy this shit? “And so, no… I’m still recovering and…” Was I going to do this? Damn, I was. “I need a bit more time.”
“Whatever you need. We’ll activate the extended sick leave policy for you. We had to, you know, stop your pay. HR made us do it, swear. But we’ll reinstate it and get you reimbursed for…”
“No,” I cut in, feeling like a cheat, “you don’t have to do that.”
“Of course we do. You’ve been with us frickin’ forever.”
God, that was nice.
“No, really, I have special insurance for, you know, that kind of thing,” I lied and kept lying. “I’m good. Totally okay. I just need another week. Maybe two. And then, um… can I come back?”
“Yeah, sure, totally,” Dave told me. “We have an ad in the paper but we’ve been getting temps and they, like, totally suck so, abso-freaking-lutely. Can’t wait to have you back but you get healthy first, hear?”
My boss rocked.
“Thanks, Dave.”
“Good to hear your voice, Cora. Sucks you had an accident but glad you’re gonna be okay.”
“Thanks.”
“Later, Cora.”
“Bye, Dave.”
I hit the off button.
Then I stared at the phone.
Then I started giggling, this, I knew, was definitely hysteria.
Then I did more laundry, folded clothes, tidied them away and put clean sheets on the bed.
Then I did another round of phone calls to my friends, none of whom, again, picked up.
After that, I started freaking out.
And after that, I started pacing, waiting for Tor to return and trying not to panic.
And now, it was after eight, he left just after nine thirty, it was raining and he wasn’t home.
He was probably in an emergency room, every bone in his beautiful body broken, having been hit by a bus.
Sure he was a dick and an asshole who ripped my heart out and stomped on it, but when I was new to his world, he took care of me. Yes, there was a curse that started and the small fact he thought I was his wife that made him take care of me, but he did.
He killed rabbits for me.
And I let him go out and be hit by a bus.
Shit!
The door opened and he walked through, hair wet, clothes drenched and plastered to him, looking hot.
