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wooden
banister until I reached the top of the curved staircase. 
    “Aren’t
you going to tell me about it?” she asked, flipping the keypad open on the
house alarm.
    “Another
time.  I’m tired.”
    “He
seems rude.  I don’t like him.  He expected you to drop everything to
meet him tonight.  You barely know him, and now you’re romping and booking
hotel rooms?”
    The
baldness of Laura’s comments caught me off guard.  The subsequent silence
meant she expected a response.  I didn’t have one.  Not one I wanted
her to hear.
    “I’m
sorry, Chelsea.  I’m just looking out for you.”  She paused. 
“Do me one favour.”
    “What?”
    “Before
you go jumping into bed with him – if you haven’t already - find out exactly
who you’re jumping into bed with.”
    Her
words made no sense.  She wanted me to start dating again, and although I
wasn’t, I wondered at her problem with this particular guy.
     

CHAPTER 7
     
    M orning broke too
early for my liking.  Whoever prowled outside the bedroom door made a
creaking sound.
    “Can
I come in?” Laura whispered.
    “Yes. 
I’m awake.  It’s your house.”
    The
door glided across the carpet and she entered, fully dressed.  “I need to
nip out.  Do you want to stay here?”
    “No. 
I’ve got things to do.  I’ll get up.”
    “Okay. 
See you downstairs.” 
    The
thought of what my day had in store made me shudder.  After a moment of
quietly complaining and hugging the pillow, I dragged myself into the ensuite
and took a quick shower.  I needed to hurry.  I had the world to
face, a problem to solve and I couldn’t do any of it by lulling around,
festering in self-pity. 
    On
my way downstairs, I saw Laura jangling her keys and pointing towards the front
door, impatient to leave. 
    “You’ll
have to wait a minute.  I need a drink.”  I walked into the kitchen,
filled a glass with water from the tap, and noticed a red rose head sticking
out from under the lip of the kitchen bin.  “What’s up with the flowers?”
    Laura
walked to the bin, stuffed what appeared to be half a dozen roses deeper inside
and buried their redness under screwed up newspaper.  “Don’t know who sent
them.  But I know it wasn’t Paul.”
    “A
stranger sent you red roses?”
    “No
message on the card.  Just a large X for a kiss.”
    I
rubbed my hands together in jest.  “Ooh!  Secret admirer?”
    Laura
rolled her eyes.  “Oh please, Chelsea.  Lose the cheeky grin.  And
don’t say a word to Paul.  It’s just not appropriate when I’m about to
marry the guy.”
    “My
lips are sealed.  But don’t you want to know who sent them?  I mean,
it’s lovely that someone likes you enough to arrange flowers.”
    “It
doesn’t matter.  It’s too late.  I’ve made my choice.”  She
turned on her heels.
    While
downing my drink, the house phone rang. 
    “I’ll
get it.”  I picked up the receiver on the bench to my left.  “Hello?”
    No
answer.
    “Heeello? 
Who’s calling?”
    “I’m
waiting,” a muffled voice said.
    “Who
is this?”
    The
line went dead.
    “How
weird,” I muttered, staring at the little microphone holes on the receiver.
    Laura
came up behind me.  “What’s weird?”
    “They
said ‘I’m waiting,’ then hung up.” 
    Laura
took the phone from my hand and placed it back on the cradle.  “If it’s
important they’ll phone my mobile.  Let’s go.” 
    I
shrugged.  “If you say so.”  We walked down the hall, and at the
front door, I startled her with a warm embrace.  Nestling my head into the
curve of her neck, I took in her latest home-mixed scent and squeezed
hard. 
    “Wow. 
What?” she giggled.  “I’m not leaving forever.  Just for an hour or
two.  My aunt wants me to keep her in the loop about the wedding.  If
I don’t go over there, she’s likely to come round here, and I’ll never get rid
of her.  She’s made a big check list.  She’s driving me round the
bend.  The worst