Chapter 22
Lauren
“Don’tyou dare lick my face anymore.” I try to sound as serious as I can through mygiggles.
But Truffles isn’t buying it. He licks, and licks, until finally I sit up and climb out ofbed.
“Fine. You happy now?” Itease.
Arf.Arf.
“Yeah, yeah,” I moan, “Mama was only trying to sleep in. The nerve of me,right?”
Truffles spins around and around before darting off into the living room–the normal dance he performs before I take him outside to conduct hisbusiness.
After I slip on some shoes and slip into my coat, I make sure I have the right keys, then head out, an eager Truffles leading theway.
Of course the sight of 11B’s door taunts me like a display of forbiddenfruit.
Just keep walking. Just keep walking.I sing to myself, sounding a lot likeDory.
Once down the elevator, Jules greets us both. “Bonjour! No work for you today?” he asks, bending down to petTruffles.
“I’m working from home today,Jules.”
He rises back up from bended knee and says, “Oh? Well, how lovely. Would you like me to take Truffles out for a stroll? I’d be delightedto.”
Truffles barks and lifts his paw, which always makes melaugh.
“Um, sure. That would be great, Jules. Oh and how was your second date with the mysterylady?”
His face turns red. “Third date is tonight. It’s all going wonderfully. And, what about you and Simon Grant? Things gettinglively?”
I lower my gaze from his, embarrassment flooding my face. “No. We had a date last night, but he never showed up. Left me waiting in the lobby for over an hour. I called his cell, but it went right to voicemail.” I shove my hands in my coat pocket andshrug.
“Oh dear, well hopefully he had a good excuse. If not, the entire building will likely have himexiled.”
We laugh and Truffles chimes in, always needing to voice his opiniontoo.
“Okay, well, I will bring this little guy back up to you in about an hour. He and I chat it up while we are out there. He should be good and tired by the time I bring him back toyou.”
“Thanks so much, Jules,” I say heading back to theelevator.
“It’s only my pleasure,LB.”
Back in my apartment, I brew some coffee, make a couple pieces of toast, and sit at my small dining-room table. I open the blinds, the sound of them clacking as I pull on the cord. Bright rays hit my face, instantly warming me from head to toe. I rarely do this: take time to soak in the sun, enjoying nothing but the view and some quiet time. I’m usually in a hustle each morning, a victim to the same routine. Crawl out of bed. Take Truffles out. Come back home and shower. Get dressed. CallAr—
Crap!! I slept in and forgot all about my daily FaceTime chat withArabella.
And it’s an hour past that time. I wonder if she’s been trying to reachme.
I spring from my chair and dart to my room to retrieve my phone from my nightstand. I remember deciding to turn it off last night, part of my plan to sleepin.
I grab it, turn it on as I make my way back to the kitchen. And sure enough, Arabella has not only tried to reach me via FaceTime several times, she’s also texted me about a dozen times. Oh I feel horrible. We’ve never missed a call without it being planned well inadvance.
I text herback.
Me:Arabella! I am so sorry I missed our chat. I sleptin.
