Three hours, four ibuprofen and a cold compress later, Cassandra lay on her couch practicing meditative breathing.
The now-lukewarm cloth across her eyes dimmed the light while the soothing sounds of her relaxation tape played through her ear-buds. Suddenly, someone pressed a hand against her arm.
She screamed. Heart racing, she jackknifed. The damp terry cloth went flying one way, her iPod the other.
“Calm down,” Sergio said, both hands raised as if to prove he was unarmed. “It’s just me.”
“What’re you doing here?” She eyed the cloth now hanging off the rosewood table, but didn’t have the energy to move it. Instead, she dropped back to her pillow and tossed her forearm over her eyes.
“I heard you had brunch with the parents. So I brought ice cream.”
Cassandra shifted her arm just en
