Or, damn and blast, maybe we did.
“Um…” I muttered, my mind awhirl, trying to recall when I had my last period but knowing whenever it was, it was in this world, not Tor’s.
Oh dear.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It just… gets like this. I’m, uh… irregular. It, um… sucks.”
“Sucks?”
“Yes, sucks.”
He studied me. Then he noted, “Cory, baby, never heard you use that word before.” Uh-oh. “You speak proper,” he went on and I stared up at him. Then he grinned and his voice dropped low. “Why I like you. Thought you were an uppity bitch and you are, cold as ice but with me…” He dipped his head and whispered in my ear, “Wildcat.”
Cora was a wildcat for this guy?
Whoa.
I had to get it together and I had to play this right. Until I could figure out what was going on in my life and play him out of it that was.
And I also needed to go get a freaking pregnancy test. Stat.
I wrapped my hand around his neck and whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry, um… my love. I just, well… I’m not myself.”
He lifted his head and looked at me. Then he lifted his hand and cupped my cheek.
“Can I get you something?” he asked.
Damn, this guy was kind of sweet. How did Cora latch onto him, seeing as she was such a bitch?
“No, love, just… I need to rest.”
“Fine, I’ll come by later and –”
“No!” I cried, his brows shot together and I hurried on. “No, uh, my sweet, just… I need some alone time. I’m not me. I just feel… not myself. Can you call me later?”
His eyes narrowed and he informed me, “This is two nights you’ve wanted to be alone. Babe, my clothes are in your closet. You get what that means?”
Did he live at my place?
He, luckily, went on, “I’m happy to give you space, you need it, I got my own. But, you got issues, we need to sort them out. You with me?”
Shoo. He had his own space. All was not lost.
“I’m with you. And I don’t have any issues.” Yeah, right. “It’s… um, I just don’t feel good, Noc. Can you give me some time? When I feel better, everything will be okay.”
Fat chance of that.
His eyes moved over my face. Then he said softly, “Yeah, baby, I can give you some time.”
Damn, he was sweet.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“You’ll call me, you need anything?”
I nodded and he smiled. It was nearly as good as Tor’s.
“Give your man a kiss, yeah?”
Oh boy.
I nodded. Bit my lip, went up on my toes and gave him a kiss. His mouth opened over mine and he gave me a deeper, wetter one. I managed to return it which meant it unfortunately got deeper, wetter and hotter leaving me thinking it wasn’t weird, it was just different. In my opinion not as good as Tor’s but also not bad by a long shot.
His lips left mine and when I opened my eyes, I saw him quickly shutter the surprise in his.
Weird. What was that?
Then, after searching my face for a second, he kissed my forehead.
Wow. That was sweet too.
Then he looked me in the eyes. “I’ll call you later, babe.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Later, um… love.”
He grinned at me, gave me a squeeze, let me go and walked out the door.
I collapsed on my sofa.
After I recuperated from Noc’s visit (while staring at the TV cabinet like it would explode at any minute and take me with it in its ball of flame), I made myself a fried bologna sandwich with three pieces of bologna and a melted square of American cheese on top. I toasted the bread and smothered it with mustard. Then I made myself another one. Then I ate a quarter bag of Cheetos. Then I popped a Diet Coke.
After sucking some back and stopping myself from hyperventilating, I called work.
“The Arthur Broderick Agency, this is Esther, can I help you?”
Oh crap.
Some chick named Esther answered my extension.
“Um, Esther, is Mr. Arthur there?” I asked.
“Can I tell him who’s calling?”
“Cora Goode,” I answered.
“One moment,” she replied, I waited, listened to bad music and then, faster than I expected, Dave Arthur, my boss, was on the phone.
“Cora?”
“Dave, hello, I –”
“Cora, thank God. Everyone’s been worried sick about you!”
Thank God? Worried sick?
“Um…”
“You were no call, no show. You’re never no call, no show. Hell, you’re never no show! Phoebe went to your apartment, said it looked like a disaster hit it and your car was gone.”
Phoebe, my best friend in and out of the office (therefore she had a key to my apartment) came to my place?
And my car was gone?
“For weeks, we’ve been phoning the police and hospitals,” he continued.
Oh dear.
“Why didn’t you phone my folks?” I asked stupidly because I should be thankful he didn’t. “They’re my emergency contacts.”
“I couldn’t phone Dara and Forrest and worry them if something wasn’t right with you,” he said, sounding aghast and I was grateful that my Mom and Dad knew my boss and they had formed a bond over multiple games of Apples to Apples. “Especially when Phoebe went back, saw some big guy walking out of your apartment, she says he looked like he was living there and when she tried her key, it didn’t work. She thought you’d moved out or something really bad had happened, like you got hooked up with this dude and he was bad news. God, I’m so f**king glad you phoned and sound all right.”
What?
“Dave, don’t you think you’d get a call if something bad went down with me?” I asked stupid, stupid, stupidly.
He paused. Then he asked, “Yeah, I would. So where have you been?”
Stupid!
“Well, I’m calling to say…” Shit! “Something bad went down with me.”
“Oh my God! What? Are you okay?”
Seriously, this was why The Arthur Broderick Agency weren’t doing all that great. Dave was awesome, he was a creative mastermind when it came to advertising and he could charm a snake but he was mostly a flake and Boyd Broderick wasn’t much better. They were college roommates and they still wore beer bong hats and got toasted in their offices frequently.