Page 43 of Our Chaotic Love Affair

CLEO

The first ring dragged me up from a dead sleep. I reached out from under the covers without opening my eyes, found my phone by touch alone, then found the magic button on the side and shut it off.

I didn’t know what time it was, but it was dark out still. That was all I needed to know. A few months ago, my number had somehow gotten put out into the world. There was a flurry of annoying calls. It had subsided but I still got the occasional one here and there. Unknown disruptions got one warning. That was the rule. If they called again, I was going to blow my whistle in their damn ear.

My head hit the pillow again. The phone rang a second time.

“Son of a bitch!”

I searched for the whistle I used to keep on my nightstand. It was not there.

I answered the call.

“Someone better be dead,” I said, my voice a full octave lower than normal. “I’m not even kidding. There needs to be an actual fatality to justify this bullshit. If you’re calling for Kevin or Carl or whoever the hell put this number on Instagram, I will find you. I will hurt you.”

“Good morning.”

My eyes popped open. The voice was smooth. Deep. Sexy. Impossibly familiar. My brain was foggy and sleep addled and completely unprepared for that voice.

Cash.

I sat up. The clock on my nightstand said 3:04 a.m. I shoved my hair out of my face and tried to assemble my thoughts into something coherent.

“Why are you calling me at three in the morning?” I asked. “Did you get stranded? Did someone steal your wallet?” I squinted at my wall, still not entirely convinced I was awake. Was this some kind of weird erotic dream? Like he was going to walk through my bedroom door at any second.

“I’m not stranded.”

“You’re probably very easy to pickpocket. You have this whole easy-mark look. Very robbable. And obviously rich, so you should probably check and see if you still have your watch. They’re smooth. They can take your shirt off and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“Are you finished?”

“I’m barely started. Did you lose your passport? Did you accidentally join a tour group and can’t find your way back? Are you currently standing outside the Colosseum wondering how to get back to your hotel? Is there a mime teasing you?”

“Seriously, are you finished?”

I sighed. “I’m trying to figure out why you seem confused that we are not in the same time zone. It’s three, Cash. In the morning. Are you dying?”

“No.”

“Are you having an existential crisis?”

“I don’t think so.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest and settled in. “If this is a booty call, I’m going to remind you we are not on the same continent.”

“I would never disrespect you with a booty call.”

That made me smile. “So, what’s the emergency?”

“Not an emergency exactly.” A pause like he was choosing his words. “I’ve booked you a first-class flight to Rome. Your driver will be there in—” Another pause, shorter, like he was checking the time. “Forty-seven minutes. Pack what you need for the plane. Everything else will be ready for you at the hotel when you land.”

I heard the words. I processed them in the order they arrived. But they didn’t make sense.

“Huh? I think we have a bad connection. Or my braincells aren’t connecting. There is definitely a bad connection somewhere.”

“You’re coming to Rome.” His voice was exactly the same. All calm and certain, like he was confirming a meeting time rather than rearranging my entire life at three in the morning. “I’ll see you in ten hours. Try to sleep on the flight.”

He hung up. I held the phone in front of my face and stared at it. Then I started laughing.