11
Preparations
At least I didn’t teleport in my sleep, or set the casita on fire, or any of a hundred other gruesome scenarios that flitted through my head that night before sweet oblivion finally claimed me. I didn’t have the alarm on the phone to wake me up, but the morning sun did a good enough job, filtering through the loose-weave curtains in the bedroom and letting me know it was time to get out of bed.
I took extra care getting ready, not to please Genoveva, but so I would look good for Rafe. Yesterday I’d done much the same thing, but an afternoon of sleeping on Simon’s couch and all of the day’s worry and strain had mostly erased the special effort I’d put into getting dressed and doing my hair and makeup. Even though I hadn’t had a chance to look in a mirror after I left Simo
