Page 104 of Ewan

And why had he insisted on being friendly to me?

I also have a few pictures of us, so now I’m checking those photographs.

I ended up hanging the framed picture above my head in my office, doubting that the kids would remember they’d have made the request.

In the meantime, the photograph serves as a reminder that people are complicated, and he is no exception.

The sharp knock on the door startles me, almost making me throw my phone across the room.

“What the fuck, woman?” I mutter, watching Miss Eisenhower press her nose against the window and look inside.

My neighbor has no intention of respecting boundaries.

“I’m coming,” I belt out, already annoyed, before pushing the chair back, sipping the last of my coffee, and spinning around to open the door for her.

Seconds later, I stare at her face. Her cat purrs in her arms, so my eyes dip.

“Is something wrong with the cat?”

She looks down as if unaware she’s carrying her cat with her everywhere.

“Um, no… There’s nothing wrong with Lizzie.”

Lizzie is her cat.

“Did you two see each other again?” she goes on.

My eyebrows nearly fall off my face, pushing toward my hairline so hard.

“Whom are we talking about exactly?”

“Your new friend,” she says.

I wish I could roll my eyes. I hate when people are trolling like that, but that's what happens when they have too much time on their hands. They make up things and don’t mind their fucking business.

I throw my arms across my chest, blocking a shiver from moving my shoulders.

It’s cold outside, and she wears warm clothes, unlike me, but she wouldn’t step inside even if I invited her to do that.

So, we talk.

“What friend?”

An amused look slides over her face.

I bite my lip.

“The one who gave you a ride home that night. I saw his truck this morning again.”

My attitude quickly dissolves.

What the hell is she talking about?

“You sawhimthis morning? Where?”

And where was I?

I was on the treadmill.

---