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“You’re hungry?”
Another meow.
“That I can fix. Me and Fiona, on the other hand? I’m not so sure.” I pour a healthy portion into the dish, and Spike buries his head in it, gulping down the dark brown kibble like he hasn’t eaten in days.
“I’m going to have to figure out what to do with you. I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to have pets in this place.” The thought of handing him off to some stranger doesn’t feel right, but one look at my lease documents tells me I’m right. Technically, I’m in violation right now, but what was I supposed to do? Let the little guy starve to death?
One problem at a time. Finding a new home for Spike can wait. I pull my phone from my pocket and send a quick text to Fiona, asking her to check in with me when she wakes up. After that Vietnamese Iced Coffee, I’m surprised she was able to doze off at all. I’m wired, the memory of our kiss playing on a never-ending loop in my head.
I try to get a little work done. Both casting directors have questions, and Charles sent an entire folder of pictures for me to review. The man works fast.
My eyes fly to my phone every few minutes, hoping for a text from her. Nothing.
I step out onto my balcony and look down at hers. Her shades are open, but I spot no movement in her living room. Which doesn’t mean anything. I can only see so far standing at the railing.
Huffing, I go back inside. I could fix some food, but those roasted veggies were more filling than I thought. Instead, I kill some time and get some brotherly advice. Pulling up my laptop, I start a video connection with Greg. “Hey, man. What’s up? We’re sitting outside, enjoying the last few rays of sunshine.” Greg moves the screen of his phone, and I see Gwen waving at me from the garden of his place.
“I have a pretty nice view myself. You two need to come out and visit.”
Greg laughs, and I can hear his bride giggling in the background. “I doubt it looks much different from the one from Fiona’s place. We were there a couple of weeks ago.”
“Hmph.” I feel like an idiot. Of course, they would have come to visit her. I don’t know how long Fiona has lived here, but her place has that lived-in feel to it, while it’s blatantly obvious that I’ve barely moved in. The only personal item in the entire place has four legs and is jumping up in my lap.
“Who’s that?” Gwen asks, her head moving into the frame.
“Spike. He’s a rescue and a temporary resident.” If I remind myself of that fact often enough, I hope I get used to the idea of letting him go.
“How did that happen? Didn’t you just move in?” Greg asks.
“I found him half-starved in the bushes by the parking lot. Couldn’t let him stay there to fend for himself.” I shrug.
“Of course not. Don’t let him near Fiona, though. She’s allergic. I tried to bring home a kitten from a friend’s litter. Had to return her the next day. She gets all stuffy and red-eyed.”
“I noticed.” I share that I had to bring Spike into the office today.
“Poor thing. How is she?” Fiona’s sister asks.
“Napping, I think. She took some allergy meds. Between that and some wine at lunch, she was dead on her feet. I ended up driving her home. Haven’t heard from her since.” I glance at my phone. It’s been two hours. Still no word from her.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” my brother says.
“That can’t be the only thing you're worried about,” Gwen says.
“What makes you think I’m worried?” I ask.
“Other than the fact that you keep staring at your phone, sound distracted, and have those worry lines on your forehead? They must be genetic. Your brother’s pop up anytime there’s something he doesn’t want to talk about.”
“Gwen!” My brother looks at his future wife and shakes his head before turning back to face the screen. “She’s not wrong, though. And it’s not like you to call out of the blue. What’s up?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Right. Do you want to talk in private?” he asks, getting up.
I shake my head. It’s not like Gwen won’t hear about what happened the moment Fiona regains consciousness. The fact that she doesn’t know makes it clear that the woman two doors down is still asleep. I’ve known them long enough to realize that they talk about everything. “Gwen should hear this.”
“Alright, little brother. Spill.”
“We kissed, and I’m kind of worried I took advantage of her. I should have stopped her.”
