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“Oh, fuck!” he called out before he could stop himself, barely managing to avoid tripping over the cat by awkwardly twisting in mid-step, coming down heavily on one foot. Off balance, he threw his arm out and ended up basically hitting the wall with his elbow, hard.
As fiery tingles exploded from his funny bone, he did his best to remain silent and still, even though there was no way that ruckus hadn’t been heard in the hall. Especially with the freaking door cracked open.
“My goodness, what was that?” Mrs. Harte asked, sounding alarmed.
“Oh, um … you know what? It was probably Sputnik.”
“Sputnik?”
“Yes, he … probably knocked something over. He’s been climbing on stuff a lot lately, and jumping on things. You know how cats are. So, he probably jumped up on a shelf and … knocked something onto the floor.”
David rubbed at his elbow and inwardly groaned at the lame explanation. It was even worse than the story about running to answer the phone.
“I should probably go check on him,” Paige continued. “To make sure he’s all right.”
“Oh, absolutely. You go check on that precious cat.”
“I will. Good night, Dolly.”
“Good night. Oh, and Paige, dear? Be sure and tell Sputnik he should watch his language.”
Chapter 5
PAIGE: I’m sorry, but I can’t make it tonight.
David read the text from Paige and frowned at the thought of a wasted date night. It had been almost a week since their dinner at Bender’s, and during that time they’d only been able to get together via FaceTime because of their conflicting schedules. It had been fun, but relatively tame (no nudity, unfortunately) and David had been looking forward to tonight for the past several days.
He immediately FaceTimed her.
“Why can’t you make it?” he asked when Paige answered.
“It’s been a really long day,” she answered with a sigh. “And I’m not fit company.”
“What does that mean? Is it code for being on your period?”
She gave a short laugh. “It’s not code for being on my period, you goof. I just have a headache, and I don’t want to bore you with the details, so—”
“Actually, I want you to bore me with the details because the details are fucking with our plans right now. So, tell me about this headache.”
“It’s just … I’ve had it for most of the day, and when I get headaches like this, they usually hang around for a while.”
“What do you mean, headaches ‘like this’? Is it a migraine?”
“No, it’s just a bad headache.”
“How often do you get them?”
“Not too often,” she answered.
He looked at her for a long moment, before asking, “Are these headaches because of your concussion?”
“Yes.” When his expression darkened, she added, “But, they’re getting better.”
“Better?”
“Coming less frequently. This is actually the first one I’ve had in almost a month.”
While that was technically a good development, the fact that she was still dealing with headaches at all pissed him off, but before he could respond in any way, she was speaking again.
