“It’s a giant turd of a story?” I offered and took great joy when she groaned, her body shaking with more laughter. “Sorry,” I said. “Stop laughing before you hurt yourself worse.”
“Seriously, Lior. Why did you keep this from me? It’s just cruel.”
“Because I didn’t know you still read his column and… it was terrible. And embarrassing. And I didn’t know it was him!”
“How? You’ve seen him in person before.”
“He doesn’t look the same. He’s all undercover journalist Clark Kent with some seriously sexy scruff and glasses. And his hair is longer. Plus he was in sweats, not fancy author clothes like in his pictures or when we went to his book signings.”
“Oh my god.” She grinned gleefully.
“Stop saying that and smiling like that, jerk.”
“Have you seen him since?”
“Ugh. Yes. I ran into him at Jessa’s launch party where he was a total asshat. And then again at a birthday party where we ended up sharing a cab afterwards which was… kind of nice.”
“Shut. Up.”
“I didn’t know his dog is dying.” I covered my face with my hands again.
“Brontë is dying?” Her eyes filled with empathy.
“Yeah. And he didn’t realize she’d been… using the bathroom while walking.”
Addie nodded. “That can happen. Poor thing. Both of them. I wish I were there to help.”
I smiled. She had always been so good with animals and people alike. Ever since we were little and she’d convinced her parents to allow what seemed like a constant parade of animals and creatures into their house. Cats, dogs, rabbits, an iguana, fish, turtles, gerbils, garter snakes… It’s why her clinic had flourished since she’d opened it four years ago. Creatures flocked to her. I often joked she was like a Disney princess. All she had to do was open a window and give a little whistle and they all came clamoring.
“Anyways,” she said. “Let’s get back to the fact that he wrote an article about you.”
“Can we not?” I asked. “It’s humiliating. I saw it when I was sitting in the airport on my way back home from seeing you after the accident and spilled my matcha all over the floor.”
Addie snickered. “Meet-poop,” she whispered. “So clever.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ll bet he’s even cuter all scruffy.”
I pictured him once more, my stomach giving a little happy cartwheel at the image.
“Shut up,” I said again, this time more to myself than to my friend, and then turned over onto my stomach and closed my eyes.
“I’ll be back next month,” I said, rolling my suitcase to the front door and parking it there to give my friend a hug.
“You’re making me feel like a charity case,” Addie said.
“We’ll beach by day and order in food by night.”
“Fine. Woo me. See if I care.”
“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
“I will absolutely wait until you get back.”
“And be nice to Dr. Doolittle,” I said. “I think you should give him a chance. Let him settle those ruffled feathers of yours with those big strong hands.”
I’d looked up her ‘nemesis’ and was shocked at how good looking the guy was. She hadn’t been joking.
