Page 79 of Mile High Salvation

“No, I’m serious. It’s good. I need the recipe.”

“What are we, chicks? Google it,” he says.

“Why are you so grumpy?” I ask.

He gives me a wry smile. “Pregnancy hormones. She’s wearing me out, if you know what I mean. I need my sleep.”

It’s my turn to drop the fork. I make a face. “Ew, TMI.”

He shrugs and goes back to eating. “You fucking asked.”

“Touche.”

On the drive back to my place, I decide they’re right... I suck and need to do better. Instead of a text, I decide to call Christa.

It rings five times.

“What?” she snaps for an answer.

I purse my lips. Ooh, she’s pissed.

“Come over. Please,” I beg. “Or I can come to you.”

She pauses for so long that I wonder if we’re still connected. I hear her breathing—likely fuming—but I wait, putting on my blinker to get onto the freeway.

“Come to me and bring food.” Then, she hangs up.

That, I can do.

Twenty-Six

Christa

Ithrow my cell downon my bed and race to the bathroom for a shower. My depressed ass has been moping around the house all damn day, still gross from my sexcapade last night, but not wanting his scent washed off, as mad as I was at him.

I shower quickly, wash my hair, and dress into black short-shorts and a pink tank top with no bra. I quickly dry my hair and forgo the makeup because it’s not worth the effort.