“Hi, Ms. Sullivan. Your sister is here to see you.”
“Oh. Great, thanks, Nick.”
I hang up but keep the phone in my hand. I’m surprised Jen is here. She usually never comes into the city anymore. I’m excited to see her, though...until I remember that Duke is currently sleeping on my bed.
Crap!
I run into my bedroom and look down at the cumbersome dog that’s lounging on my pillows like he’s Cleopatra.Please, please let him fall asleep.I quickly swipe open my phone and place it on the nightstand as soft as a feather, switching on the Celine Dion acoustic playlist that Ryan sent me before tiptoeing out of the room. I close the door so slowly that by the time it’s sealed, Jen is outside and knocking.
I jog/leap over and swing open the door before she can knock again.
“Jen, hi!” My tone is a Pollyanna level of bright. “This is such a fun surprise.”
Jen is instantly suspicious. “I was meeting one of my sorority sisters for lunch and decided to take a chance. You’ve been missing in action the past couple of days.”
“Yes, sorry, work stuff. Come on in. Do you want something to drink?” My Stepford-Sister-smile remains in place as she crosses the threshold into the apartment.
“Some water would be nice.”
I’m about to head for the kitchenette when I hear Duke scuffling around inside my bedroom. “Better yet,” I say, moving back towards Jen, “why don’t we go out? There’s a restaurant a couple blocks away that has amazing water.”
I sound insane even to myself.
“What? No. I just got here, and my feet are killing me.”
“Right, sure.” I give a nervous glance to my bedroom door, moving back towards the kitchen and opening the fridge.
“Did you drink that whole bottle of wine by yourself?” I hear Jen ask.
I look over at the counter and see the empty bottle of Riesling that Ryan and I finished off last night.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Going a little strong for a weekday, aren’t you?”
I replay the events of last night over in my head. “The alcohol was necessary.” I close the refrigerator and hand her the water.
“If you say so. Just bear in mind that if this becomes an issue, I’m not visiting you at some fancy rehab facility upstate.”
“I’m not an alcoholic, Jen. Relax.”
She thankfully lets my potential substance abuse problem go and walks into the living room, plopping down onto the couch with a contented sigh. I follow after her, settling down into my reading chair.
“So...” I say, trying to think of small talk.
Jen takes a sip of water and looks back at me with a studying eye. “What’s going on with you today?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something’s weird.”
“Nothing’s weird.”
“Yeah, you’re being weird,” she says. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I’m perfectly fine. How are you? You still puking every morning?”
“Yes, I still have morning sickness. Stop trying to change the subject. What did you do?”
