The door that was opened a crack opened wider.
“Moose,” Marius hissed. “Moose, get off of him.”
“He’s mad I’m in his room,” I said, sitting up. “He’s a smart cat if he’s able to open the doors.”
“Just lock it,” Marius said. “Then he can’t get in.”
Moose meowed at me, and Marius picked him up.
“You coming with us for a run?” Marius asked me.
“Sure, just let me grab my clothes.” I rubbed my face.
Moose tuggedat his leash as he loped beside us on the path as we ran.
“Are you going to see her?”
“I thought you said not to talk to Lexi,” I reminded him.
“Definitely don’t do that,” he said quickly. “No, your mom. You going to see her? It’s Tuesday.”
“Yeah, it is Tuesday.”
I never missed a Tuesday lunch.
But I still had last week’s Alessio leftovers in my fridge. McKenna was probably too busy doing actual business work to come clean out the food. I made a mental note to call Nasr and tell him he and Mrs. Ortega could have anything in there they wanted.
The office had settled down. No one seemed to recall Lexi’s firing and subsequent outburst. People were, however, writing me annoyed emails about the photography contest, which had been cancelled, reinstated with different rules, then canceled again.
Lexi had been right. They weren’t talking about the fact that she and I had slept together.
My heart ached when I thought about our last angry exchange.
I wanted to go to her apartment, stand outside her window, and beg her to forgive me.
She said she hated you, remember?
There was alwaysa rush of dread and anticipation on Tuesday afternoons. That maybe this would be the day that my mother would recognize me and come over.
But today, while the dread and anticipation was there, it wasn’t because of my mother.
I was thinking about Lexi, wondering if she was going to be waiting at the bar for me, brilliant smile on her face as she talked a mile a minute with the bartender.
But the bar was empty when the hostess escorted me to my usual spot.
I was crestfallen.
Of course she’s not going to show up, idiot. She thinks you’re just like Dad, not to mention you told her you hated her and you fired her.
A bread basket was set in front of me.
“I’m not eating,” I told Matt.
“Something to go then?”
I glanced up at the mirror. My mother was behind me at her usual table, holding out a bite of seared scallop on her fork to her husband.
“I’m just going to have a whiskey, then I have to run,” I told him, taking out my wallet. “Also add dessert for the table by the window? Thanks.”
