I mean, fantastic orgasms don’t grow on trees. And if they did, they’d be avocado trees, where the flowers bloom only once a season as female, and then forever after as male. They’re a fruit miracle.
But now, now that he was gone, now that I’d walked him as far as I could, wrapped him in my arms and kissed him one more time, and waited until he waved at me from the other side of security, now I had no excuse. Except, I really needed to double-check my numbers with a calculator, just to be sure. Or maybe I’d make a countdown on my phone.
Yes. That was the right answer.
I was going to hard core make a countdown until Abram-time on my phone, or maybe using one of those countdown apps. Perhaps I’d even order a scrolling style marquee for my temporary housing in Geneva.
Nope. You need to save your pennies for plane tickets.
On that note, I decided sorting through my simmering shame-confusion would have to wait for a while longer as I had discount travel alerts to set up. Perhaps I would poke around a bit, see if I could fly out now for a visit. Where was he this week? Portland? San Francisco? Las Vegas? So close to LA.
After checking on tickets, I should probably check my emails, take a peek at the backend data processing requests I’d put in before leaving for Aspen, finish my lit search of two of my upcoming papers, and then—whoa, look at the time!—I should go to bed early. A good night’s sleep was the key to being well-rested, and being well-rested was the key to Satan’s liquor cabinet—
Wait. No. That’s not right.
I frowned at the exterior to Lisa’s apartment door, twisting the key in the lock, pushing it open while I considered what being well-rested might be the key to, and came face-to-face with Gabby.
AH! “Ah!”
“There you are!”
I flinched, retreating one step into the hallway, but she was fast. Before I knew what was happening, she’d pulled me through the door, shut it, and tugged me into the living room.
“You startled me. How did you—”
“I could hear you coming up the stairs. You have the gait of an elephant.” Gabby waved one hand in the air while steering me with the other. “Come. Sit. Tell us everything that happened.” Before I’d thought to extract myself from her grabby hands, she’d deposited me onto the couch, picked up a glass of wine, and pushed it at me. “Take it and spill.”
“Don’t spill the wine, spill the story,” Lisa clarified, juggling three bowls as she walked out of the kitchen, a big, anxious-looking smile pasted on her face and aimed at me.
The last time I’d seen Lisa was this morning, when I’d asked Abram to give us a minute to talk. She’d been visibly flustered and rushed to offer the use of her car before leaving the apartment in a hurry to give us some space.
I was a little surprised to see her now.
“I put out the sundae stuff already.” Lisa placed the first of the three bowls next to me on the couch. “Therefore, you have your choice of a banana split or whatever you want.”
“Ta-da!” Gabby stepped to the side, revealing a coffee table covered in ice cream sundae toppings.
I had to swallow because my mouth was abruptly watering. What time is it? Is it lunchtime?