Me: Do you have a direct line to my body
and brain, Noah?
My text is read immediately, and the response comes a minute later.
Noah: Something like that, cricket.
Let me guess, you skipped breakfast
and now you’re ready to tear open that bag?
My smile is wide as I type out a response, my finger twirling my hair as I grin somewhat manically at my cell. I shake my head and cut that out pronto. I’m not a damn teenager anymore.
Me: You’re not wrong. They
can probably hear my stomach
growling in China.
Mycell begins to buzz with an incoming call, a picture of Noah and me in front of a Christmas tree lighting up the screen. We’re wearing matching PJs, a red tartan set, and I have tinsel around my neck while we’re both drinking some bright green concoction my brother-in-law made for us last Christmas. He called itThe Grinch,and I remember exactly how strong it was. I think I only managed half a glass before I was a stumbling, tipsy mess. Noah hadn’t been much better, but he at least hid it better than I did.
His chuckle greets me as I answer the phone, “I could hear it from my office.”
I grin and peep into the bag, finding the tin foil wrapped stuffed croissant and a blueberry muffin in a clear box. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Gotta take care of my girl,” he says easily. “Did you sleep okay?”
I ignore the way his words have my heart skipping a beat. He calls me his girl all the time. I am his girl.Just not in the way I want.
“I did,” I lie, “Fresh as a daisy this morning.”
“That why you stumbled in late?”
My head whips to the window as if I’m going to spot him standing outside, but of course, he isn’t there. “How did you know that?”
“Doorbell,” he reminds me.
“Ah, of course. I forget your stalking tendencies.”
“Not stalking,” I hear him shuffling on the other end of the phone, a couple of keys clicking as he types something on his computer. “Not my fault I get a live feed pop up the moment it gets activated.”
“What are your plans for the day?” I ask, finally unwrapping my breakfast so I can settle my obnoxiously loud stomach.
“Meetings,” he groans. “What about you?”
“I have that consultation today,” I’m not able to keep the excitement from my voice, “The designs are so pretty, Noah. I’m excited to show them.”
“Proud of you, Sid,” I hear the smile in his tone. “Go and get ‘em.”
“I’ll catch you later, yeah?”
“Always,” he answers. “Let me know how it goes. Bye, Sid.”
“Of course. Bye, Noah.”
I hang up the phone and dig into my breakfast while I go over the last checks for the concept. We’re meeting at a fancy hotel on the other side of the city, their request, not mine, and I need to get going soon so I can get through the traffic. Selecting a few sample flowers from my stock, I place them in my carrier and leave a note taped to the door. I have no collections arranged for the day, so no one should be coming by, but I always like to make people aware, just in case.
Locking up, I walk down the road and hail a cab, bundling everything into the seat beside me. As expected, we hit traffic in the center of the city, but I still have time before the consultation begins so I relax a little, sipping on my coffee.
