“Amen,” she agreed. “We need a new furnace at our place. So much for old homes having charm.”
Lee and Jesse shared a beautiful Cape Cod south of the city, bursting with character and love. I always adored the little home on the hill, a navy blue dollhouse with a classic picket fence and flowerbeds of daffodils in the summer.
“They do,” I mused, dreaming of someday calling one my own.
As a child, I eyed the sprawling old houses when we headed into town, Dad assuring me anything could be mine with hard work. Sadly, I worked like a dog and only had a tiny apartment to show for it.
“They’re also a pain in the piggy bank,” she growled.
“So are canceled weddings!” I joked.
* * *
Lee headed home at four-thirty to beat traffic, leaving Hank and me to cuddle up a storm. With a belly full of pizza and beer, I drifted off, warm and tingly all over with sheer bliss.
A knock at my door startled me from my nap, Hank digging his claws in as he kicked off my stomach. “Seriously, dude?” I grumbled, rubbing an eye.
The television was still on, a news broadcast ticking across the screen. A thin sliver of sunset peeked through the vertical blinds, night approaching. I grabbed my phone and checked for messages, anticipating something from Jason about coming over, only to find nothing. Weird. He never came over without texting, but there was a first for everything.
No one other than Lee knocked, though sometimes a neighbor would to borrow something for a recipe.
I looked around for my bra, having discarded it after Lee left, spying it thrown on the polka-dot chair. “One minute!” I called, making my way over. The handle jingled, my visitor either impatient or misunderstanding what I said.
“I said, one minute!”
I tugged my bra on, needing at least its thin level of modesty. It was bad enough I was answering the door in a camisole and pajama shorts.
I hurried over and yanked the door open in irritation. I was met by a teenage delivery boy with a spectacular arrangement of red roses jutted forth.
“Elena Julian?” he asked.
“Yes?” I breathed, tugging my shorts down for a little more coverage.
“I have a delivery for you,” he declared, shoving the flowers my way, a small clipboard tucked under his arm. “Can you sign here?”
“Sure, do you have a pen?” I asked.
“Crap. I left it in the car.”
I suppressed an eye roll, turning to grab one from my secret stash in the kitchen. “Just a second.”
Unfortunately, owning a cat meant I had to hide all writing instruments. Along with hair ties, they were irresistible to Hank. If I weren't careful, they’d all end up batted around the apartment, and I’d get a noise complaint.
I grabbed a trusty black gel pen and headed back to the teenager, his cheeks blushing crimson. With a quick signature, the tremendous bouquet was mine, requiring both hands to carry.
Dang. Someone liked me.
Dad sent daisies and chocolates on the anniversary of my non-nuptials, so I knew they weren’t from him, and Lee hated flowers so they couldn’t be from her.
A part of me dared to think Jason sent them, but why? Was he starting to catch feelings too? It was as swoon-worthy as it was terrifying.
“Thank you!” I called over my shoulder, eager to read the card.
I’d have to move them to the bathroom to hang out with the daisies eventually; Hank also a fan of eating flowers. The cat was like a destructive toddler.
I fluffed them as I set them down on the kitchen counter; the display flattened from being held against the boy’s chest. The arrangement was huge, several dozen roses stuffed in the tall curved vase, a single card perched within, a heart looping my name.
I turned with a smile to go shut and lock the door, only to see the tail end of Hank. “Hank!” I called, stalking over to haul him back in the apartment. He rarely bothered with the door at the condo but was cantankerous since downsizing, his prime bird-watching window and room to run gone.
“Hank!” I repeated, the gray-haired monster disappearing into the corridor.
“Dammit!” I muttered, rushing after him. He couldn’t get far. The elevator was always out of service, and the staircase was at the end of the hall.
To my surprise, the little shit bolted, hauling ass down the hall and hanging a left towards the stairs. “Hank!” I squealed, praying no one was coming in or out below. If he got out, he was a goner.
The complex was by a major road, and Hank hadn’t been outside as an adult. He was a pudgy house cat used to treats and canned food, not the elements.
I sprinted after him, cutting the turn, toppling over my own two feet, shoulder hitting the wall. I thought I caught myself in the frenzy, avoiding disaster, but I hadn’t.
It all happened in a blur, gravity getting the upper hand as I toppled down the stairs. In the melee, I spun head over heel, striking my head against the metal railing with a thud.
I landed in a heap at the base of the stairs, the tile cold. There was a dripping warmth at my temple, a heavy metallic scent filling the air.
The last thing I saw was the flick of Hank’s tail as he slipped through the slightly ajar door leading to freedom.
Jason
Women and cell phones were an impossible match.
Men could call and call with no response and were expected to be cool with it, but if a woman called and he didn’t answer on ring one or two, he was accused of everything from cheating to running a criminal empire with a second family.
I called Elena twice the night before, and both times received the cold shoulder in the form of her cheery voicemail. Even playful texts went unanswered.
Either she settled in early for the night, or she let her phone die again. I
