Lucky meowed on the other side of the bedroom door. We’d tried letting her sleep with us, but she always wanted to sleep on my head and couldn’t understand why that arrangement didn’t appeal to me.
Vivian, you’ve got to be patient. You don’t have all the facts here.
Being patient had never been one of my strong suits. The cat meowed again, a reminder that she wasn’t much on patience, either.
I threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. My phone informed me it was five thirty in the morning, an hour I tried my best to sleep through. It wasn’t happening this morning. And I had no idea what I was going to do to pass the time until Mitch got home.
You’re going to do your research, that’s what.
I rolled my shoulders back and went to google everything I could find out about Georgia divorce law and Mitch’s mysterious papers.
Chapter 5
Once I’d googled all I could google while keeping my sanity—really, it was a lot like looking up your symptoms and having the internet declare you were dying from a hangnail—I paced and cleaned surfaces that were already clean and made a batch of zucchini bread, of all things. Finally, I got a text from Mitch:
Just landed. Be home in about an hour.
As interminable as an hour felt, at least I now knew when to expect him. There I was in the kitchen whirling from the fridge to the pantry to the oven to make sure I really had turned it off. Should I change clothes? Put on makeup? Dress myself up in nothing but Saran Wrap and meet him at the door?
On the one hand, the plastic had to be uncomfortable. On the other, maybe if I wound it tight enough, I could get some lift in certain areas.
I had a French maid costume somewhere in the bedroom, but I’d last worn it ten years and twenty pounds ago, so ...
The doorbell rang, and I froze in place.
Could that be Mitch already?
Someone knocked, and I walked to the door, glad I hadn’t given in to my plastic-wrap impulses because it couldn’t possibly be Mitch on the other side. No, it was a deliveryman from the florist. He helda beautiful arrangement of cut flowers in a round bowl: sunflowers, orchids, daisies, tulips, and blooms I didn’t even recognize.
“For Vivian?” he said.
“That’s me.”
“Odd. It doesn’t have a last name. Can you sign here?” As he juggled the clipboard, Lucky ran outside, causing him to bobble the flowers, sloshing some water on the ground. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“That’s okay. She does that.” I wanted to read the card on the flowers, but I also had to retrieve the cat. I took the flowers from him and put them down on the dining room table. By the time I stepped outside, the burly deliveryman had chased Lucky to the edge of the landscaping and was bending over to retrieve her.
“Thank you,” I said as he handed me the cat. Lucky wriggled, but I tightened my hold on her.
“Not a problem,” he said with a grin before returning to his truck.
Once inside, I had to put Lucky down because she was squirming and liable to scratch me at any moment. She gingerly settled into a sitting position, wrapping her tail around her feet and looking up at me with her most innocent one-eyed stare.
“You’re a toddler,” I said. “A furry velociraptor toddler.”
She blinked at me, the kitty sign forI love you.
I sighed and blinked back. “Fine. I love you, too. Even if you are a furry pain in the butt.”
I turned to the flower arrangement and took the tiny envelope from the top. A note inside said:
Thanks for saving my bacon the other night. Parker
“How sweet!”
I didn’t realize I’d said the words out loud until Lucky meowed in response.
I leaned over to smell the flowers, enamored of how colorful they were. I’d have to move them or else a certain cat with a penchant forescape would chew on them. With a sigh, I escorted the bouquet to our bedroom, closing the door behind me.
