Page 67 of Real Love


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“What’s this?” she asked.

“You tell me.”

“Is there a card?”

“No, the delivery man said you would know.”

She looked in the bag and began pulling out containers, one at a time. Macaroni and cheese, baked chicken, string beans, brownies, chicken soup, quiche Lorraine, a small crate of cherry tomatoes, a box of raspberry tea, saltine crackers, a box of chocolate covered almonds, peaches, mineral water, sugar cookies, a pound of coffee and half-and-half. The other bag had a bottle of Midol, a heating pad, some lavender and patchouli candles, three romance novels, gourmet dog food and a chew toy. She laughed out loud.

“Excuse me Antonio.” She waited for him to leave, closing the door behind him, before dialing the programmed number. He always picked up on the second ring.

“Hello.”

Sean’s voice had just the right amount of cheer to make her smile. She was getting used to having him around and this pretend boyfriend thing felt pretty good. As much as she hated to admit it, Sean really knew how to treat a woman. Even if it was just for a short while, she liked the attention. Even before Eric got married, he never treated her with such compassion.

“Thank you.”

Sean knew he was getting through to her. It was his goal to show her what it meant to have someone really care about her.

“When you said my week to date you was that time of the month, I knew there were going to be a couple of days when you really didn’t feel like going out or being around me.”

“True, but Winnie was looking forward to seeing Simon tonight and your package means you two are canceling on us.”

“We didn’t want to, but earlier you said you weren’t feeling well and we didn’t want to—”

“Winnie got a new outfit and had her hair done. I think she’ll be disappointed if Simon gives her a rain check.”

“Okay, meet me—”

“You guys come over.”

“To your office?” he asked.

“No, my apartment.”

“I thought you said that was your sanctuary and off limits?”

“You’re safe, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

“Okay, you and Simon come over at seven.” She surprised herself with her suggestion.

“Okay.”

“See you then, bye.”

“Kyla…”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s the address?”

“I’m sorry.” She laughed. “It’s 333 East Forty-Ninth Street, the doorman will let you up.”

“See you tonight.”

What did she just do? She never had men at her apartment. Not even Eric. It was her sanctuary.

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