Page 98 of Save the Date
She glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t go,” Jack mumbled.
“Gotta let the dogs out. Go back to sleep.”
“Mmm. Come back to bed.”
Cara pulled on a pair of drawstring cotton boxer shorts and a cami and slid her feet into flip-flops. The dogs raced each other down the stairs, and out into the courtyard garden.
She went into the kitchenette and started the coffeepot. Did she have any food in the house for breakfast? There was nothing in the kitchenette fridge, except a pint of half-and-half, some bottles of water, two cans of Red Bull, and a jar of pickles. And two cardboard cartons of leftover Chinese takeout. Shrimp with lobster sauce for breakfast? She shuddered.
When the coffee was ready, she fixed two mugs. Realized she didn’t know how the man she’d just slept with took his coffee. She shrugged. She knew the most important things there were to know about Jack Finnerty. He was kind and thoughtful. He snored, but softly. Unlike other men she’d been with, he didn’t fall asleep instantly after lovemaking. She smiled, thinking back to last night. He’d been the only good thing about Friday.
Upstairs, she brushed her teeth quickly and finger-combed her messy hair. She set a mug on the nightstand and stood looking down at Jack.
Without warning he reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her back onto the bed.
“Hey,” she protested. “I thought you were sleeping.”
He rolled over on his side to face her and ran his hands up under her camisole, brushing her nipples with his thumbs. He kissed her deeply, and she tasted toothpaste. “You weren’t asleep at all!”
“It’s called playin’ possum,” he chuckled.
***
Their coffee got cold. Eventually, she made another pot. Jack leashed up the dogs and walked them over to Parker’s on Drayton Street, bringing back two sausage biscuits—for him—and a blueberry muffin—for her.
While he was gone, Cara showered and dressed quickly in shorts and a tank top. Not even nine o’clock yet, and it was already getting hot and sticky upstairs.
They took their coffee and breakfast out into the courtyard garden. Jack pointed out a suspicious mound of dirt beneath one of the crepe myrtles. “Looks like Shaz was trying to tunnel out of here this morning. Sorry about that.”
“It could just as well have been Poppy,” Cara said.
She’d propped open the back door to the shop so the dogs could come and go, and now they heard a loud knocking at the front door.
“Ignore that,” Cara told Jack. “Probably some guy desperate to buy flowers for a forgotten anniversary.”
The knocking continued.
“Sounds pretty desperate,” Jack said. “Maybe you should take pity on the poor guy and bail him out.”
Cara rolled her eyes, but she stood up and went to the front door, where the knocking continued.
“Hang on,” she called. “I’m coming.”
***
She pulled up the shade and stared out at her desperate customer. Only it was no customer. It was Leo. Her ex.
Her first instinct was to pull the shade back down and run the other way. But it was too late for that. He’d already seen her.
He was dressed for work: sport coat, tie, slacks, polished loafers. His Ray-Bans hung from a band around his neck. He looked good, like the kind of cute guy you’d flirt with if you stood next to him in line at Starbucks. Which, come to think of it, was how they’d met all those years ago. Incredibly, he held a huge bunch of lilacs in his right hand, and a box of cheap drugstore chocolates in the other.
She unlocked the door and opened it.
“Cara!” His eyes lit up. “I didn’t, I mean, I wasn’t sure you’d be here. Or, if you were, if you’d open the door.”
“I’m here, Leo,” she said, forcing herself to look stern. “What do you want?”
“Here.” He thrust the flowers and chocolates toward her. His sandy blond hair flopped into his eyes. In another minute, if she wasn’t careful, she’d push his hair back, straighten his tie. Old habits died hard. Instead, she kept her hands at her side, fists clenched tightly.
