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I opened the following email in the long line of messages and read the first lines when my phone rang. I practically lunged out of my seat to answer it. So far, once Jack had left San Diego and was aboard his aircraft carrier, he hadn’t had access to a phone and we were only able to communicate over video calls. But thanks to a Pavlovian response, I found myself having a mini panic attack every time the phone rang. I sighed, shaking my head at myself, as I sank back into my office chair and answered the call.
“Hey girl! Where are you at?” Rachel’s chipper voice came across the line.
“I’m at the office,” I replied, pressing my eyes closed in anticipation of the lecture she’d give me.
“The office?” I could practically hear her wrinkling her nose. “What in the world are you doing there? It’s Saturday.”
“I know, I know. I’ve been such a basket case all week, I haven’t been able to get anything done. I have more email messages than I can even see on one screen, a voicemail full of requests, and two new client presentations to put together before Monday.”
She sighed. “That stinks. I’m at your condo.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, I brought lunch and thought maybe afterward we could go get a mani-pedi. My nails are trashed from being at the beach, and I figured you probably haven’t had time to get one since you got home from the trip.”
“I wish I could,” I replied, glancing down at my nails that—as Rachel had guessed—were horribly neglected. Sadly, I found that taking care of myself fell way down on the list of priorities when everything else was crazy in my life. I didn’t look like a total swamp monster, but I definitely hadn’t carved out time for pampering in a long time.
“Well, do you want me to bring lunch to you?”
My stomach rumbled as if it could answer the question for me. “Sure. I don’t know how much fun I’ll be, but you’re more than welcome to come over. I know Hunter would love to see you.”
At the sound of his name from across the office, he perked up, lifting one ear in my direction. I smiled at him and he opened his mouth, his tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth, into a happy doggy smile.
“Okay,” Rachel said, her tone brightening up a bit. “I’ll be there in 10.”
I hung up the phone and plowed through three email messages, stopping only when the printer finished its job. I was signing contracts when there was a soft knock on my office door right as Rachel’s head poked inside. Hunter lunged off the couch and started barking frantically, dancing around at her feet until she stopped to stoop over and pet him. “Hey, Huntey! I missed you too buddy!”
After a moment, his attention shifted, and we both burst out laughing as his nose went into overdrive near the white paper bag clutched in Rachel’s hand. “You’re impossible,” she told him, lightly bopping him on the nose. “Not for you. Pietro’s is far too precious for puppies.”
I smiled over at her and arched a brow. “Pietro’s? What’s the occasion?”
Pietro’s was a fancy Italian bistro a few miles from my condo. When Rachel and I lived together, it was one of our favorite places to go. Thanks to the high price tags it was usually saved for special occasions like birthdays, promotions, or exceptionally long weeks.
Rachel shrugged as she came to the desk. She set the bag down on the only clear corner of my workspace and unpacked to foil-wrapped packages. “No occasion. I just thought my best friend could use some cheering up.”
I pulled back the foil from the box she handed me and smiled down at the creamy fettuccine Alfredo inside. “Well, this should do it!” I looked up at Rachel, as she settled into the chair opposite me, reaching for the second container she’d set in front of me. A quick peek inside revealed a generous portion of Caesar salad. “I suppose I should be a good girl and start with my veggies.”
Rachel smiled. “I’ll let you make that call. You won’t have any judgment from me either way. In fact, if we’re making confessions, I already started on dessert in the car on the way over here.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes. Rachel was one of the few girls I knew who could get away with eating dessert after every meal and still maintain a fitness model physique. She attributed it to her long runs on the beach every morning, and after watching Jack run on the beach, and the powerful display of his leg muscles pumping with each stride, I believed her.
“So, besides drowning in work, what’s going on?”
I shook off the memory of Jack and looked over at my friend. “I talked to Jack last night.”
