Your father and I are having a wonderful time even though you haven’t been updating us on what’s going on in your life. Barcelona was beautiful, but it would have been even more beautiful if we knew our daughter wasn’t spiraling into a depression or some sort of mid-life crisis.
Guilt-tripping over. You should have seen our tour guide, Paolo. Hubba hubba as the kids say. I attached a photo that I took. He’s single if you want me to bring you back a souvenir.
Love,
Mom
SEVENTEEN
MAN-TO-MAN
Knox
It was too damn early for someone to be banging on my front door. They deserved what they got. I yanked on a pair of gym shorts and stumbled down the stairs, rubbing sleep out of my eyes.
“Someone better be dead,” I muttered, nearly taking a header over Waylon, who put on the speed on the last three steps.
“What?” I said, yanking the door open.
The obnoxiously good-looking Stef—stupid, misleading name—peered at me over his expensive sunglasses.
“Good morning to you, too,” he said. He wore golf shorts and one of those patterned button-downs that only lean guys who spent hours a week at the gym could pull off.
My dog shoved half his body out onto the porch and gazed lovingly up at the intruder.
“Who’s a good boy? Who’s a handsome boy?” Stef said, squatting down to pet him.
Waylon basked in the attention.
I rubbed a hand over my face. “What do you want?”
Mr. Smooth held up two cups of coffee in a to-go tray. “Coffee talk.”
I snatched one out of his hand and stomped away from the door into the kitchen. Waylon trotted after me anticipating his breakfast.
I popped the lid off the coffee and guzzled while I scooped up a helping of kibble.
Dog fed, I shoved my head under the faucet and turned on the cold water, willing the shock to wake up my brain.
I came up for air and found a hand towel hovering in front of my face.
I took it without a thank you and dried off.
“Why are you bringing me coffee at an inhuman hour?”
“To talk about Naomi, of course. I assumed you were quicker than this.”
“I am when my sleep isn’t interrupted.”
So maybe it hadn’t been the sleep I was pissed off about. Maybe it was the dream involving Naomi’s cherry-painted lips that had just been getting warmed up when this asshole decided to be social.
“My apologies. I figured this talk couldn’t wait,” he said, pulling out a stool at the counter.
I crumpled up the towel and threw it in the sink. “Is this the part where you tell me to back off your girl?”
Stef laughed.
“Something funny?”