Chapter Eight
Focus
I woke to birdsong and sunlight streaming through cracked-open windows, a beautiful woman under my arm. Would she be Becca, Cara, or someone else? My arm was over her taut waist, on her belly, and her hand was over mine. She murmured as I withdrew. I put on shorts, t-shirt, and socks, then walked around to her side of the bed and put my hand on her shoulder. Her eyes opened long enough to unlock her phone, then closed again. I carried her phone to the kitchen. No calls had come in.
Cara had liked my pancakes in maple syrup yesterday, so I mixed another batch. I also made an Italian scramble and fried up some bacon. 45 minutes later, with everything nearly done, I felt her arms slither around my waist and clutch me.
“Hello, darling,” she said as I turned into her. Sh
