Page 117 of It Happened on a Sunday
Saturday, 1/17
(3:41 AM)Sloane:I land at noon tomorrow!!!
(5:41 AM)Sly:Believe me, I am aware. I haven’t been able to sleep for two days because of that fact.
(3:41 AM)Sloane:Hopefully something else will be keeping you awake soon enough
(5:41 AM)Sly:I can’t wait to see you
(3:41 AM)Sloane:Me too. One month is too long
(5:41 AM)Sly:One day is too long
(3:42 AM)Sloane:Good line
(5:42 AM)Sly:I do my best
(5:42 AM)Sly:Also, not a line
(3:42 AM)Sloane:I wrote something today. Just a few lines. But something
(5:43 AM)Sly:Corazón!
(5:43 AM)Sly:You’re brilliant
(3:45 AM)Sloane:Let’s not get carried away
(5:45 AM)Sly:When can I hear?
(3:45 AM)Sloane:When I actually have a song
(3:46 AM)Sloane:I’ll see you tomorrow
(5:47 AM)Sly:I’ll be waiting
(3:47 AM)Sloane:With bells on?
(5:48 AM)Sly:Good night, corazón
(3:48 AM)Sloane:Good morning, Sly
Chapter 49
Sly
“How many times are you going to check your phone in a five-minute period?” Tyson teases as he sits down on the locker room bench across from me.
“As many times as it takes,” I shoot back. Besides, I’m not checking my phone. I’m scrolling through some of my favorite text exchanges with Sloane while I wait for her to get here. It’s not my fault my girlfriend manages to be both incredibly wonderful and incredibly funny at the same time.
She texted me thirty minutes ago to say that she landed and was on her way, and I’ve pretty much been jumping out of my skin ever since. She turned me down for Christmas with the family, so we haven’t seen each other in a month. And while I have every intention of going out there and winning this game today, it’s far from the only thing on my mind.
In fact, right now my biggest concern is keeping Sloane safe. I got here extra early to run through the security plan with Vince, the assistant head of security, to make sure everything is in place. We went over it yesterday as well, but when it comes to Sloane’s safety, I’m not fooling around. Not when she has some obsessed stalker who’s growing more unstable with every day that passes, at least according to Marco.
She tries to play it down for me, but Marco and I talk almost daily about the state of the investigation. Considering the last letter she received included a picture of her chopped into tiny pieces and coated with what the FBI assures us is animal blood, I’m not really up for taking chances.
No way is somebody getting to her today—not on my watch andnot in my house.
My phone dings, and I swipe down to find a new text from Sloane.
