The alarm sounds six hours after I’ve fallen asleep, and I reach over to grab my phone right away. I slide the phone under the covers with me and slowly open my eyes when I see that I have a bunch of text messages waiting for me.
Travis: Good morning, beautiful. I tried to get coffee delivered to you but it’s not available in your area.
I have to laugh loud at this one and shake my head. "Oh, my city boy," I say, turning on the other side and reading the other ones.
Travis: Waking up without you is not the same.
"Isn’t that the truth," I mumble.
Travis: I miss you.
Travis: Have the best day and call or text me when you can.
Travis: P.S. You’re beautiful.
I smile and start typing him a response
Me: What a way to wake up. I mean, it’s almost my third favorite way to wake up. I’ll let you guess what my number one and number two are.
I miss you more. The bed isn’t the same without you holding my boob, I think one might have run away.
Call me if you can.
P.S. Have I told you that I miss you?
I press send and get off the bed, going to start the coffee machine before I walk to the bathroom and brush my teeth. The phone rings and I smile seeing his name on top. "Good morning, sunshine," I say, putting him on speaker as I walk back to the kitchen
"Good morning, beautiful," he says and his voice sends shivers down my body. I could just picture him standing in front of me. "Did you just get up?"
"I did," I say. "Are you at work?"
"I am, got in here early. I’m between patients," he says, and I wonder if he wears scrubs or not.
"Whatcha wearing?" I ask and he laughs.
"Pants and a shirt," he says and his voice goes low and I hear someone call his name. "I’ll take a picture and send it to you. I have to go, baby," he says softly. "I’ll call you later."
"Okay," I say and hang up the phone, putting it on the counter. "It’s going to be okay for seven days," I tell myself and I wish it was that simple. Truth be told, the next couple of days are a shitshow. I miss his calls most times, and when I call him, he always sounds like he’s asleep. I refuse to admit that he was right four years ago and that long distance is fine.
I’m sitting at my desk four days later when I hear the bell ring, and my stomach flutters when I think it could be him. I mean, I know the probability of it being him is slim, especially since I spoke with him this morning and he was going into surgery. I speed walk to the reception area and see my mom coming in. "Oh, it’s you,” I mumble, trying to hide the disappointment.
"Well, hello to you, too," she says, looking around. "Where is Donna?"
"She is sick today," I say, turning and walking back to my office, almost stomping back like a toddler being told I can’t have a snack before dinner.
"Are you moping?" my mother says from behind me and I look over my shoulder at her.
"I’m not moping, I just thought that you were someone else and you are obviously not that person. So…" I walk over to the couch and sit down.
"And who did you think it was?" she asks, sitting next to me and I look over at her. I take a second to see if she knows anything.
"You never come visit me at work." I put my elbow on the side of the couch and rest my head on my fist. "So this is a surprise."
"I just wanted to see my daughter." She avoids looking at me, and I laugh, knowing for sure now that she has heard something through the grapevine, and chances are she got ten different variations, and I should have known this was coming. I was just freaking crazy trying to get this weekend off that I didn’t even think.
"What are you fishing for, Mom?" I ask, and she gasps, shocked at my question.
"Can’t a mother visit her daughter at work?" She pretends to brush lint from her pants, but I know that there would never be a piece of lint on anything she wears. My mother was a model since she was a little girl, and even though she’s settled to life as a country girl, she still has all the city in her. "So what I heard was that a certain someone was in town." She shrugs her shoulders. "And no one said anything to me about it." She folds her arms over her chest.
"Aha.” I laugh, pointing at her. "You came for information."
She puts her hand to her chest. "I did not." She glares at me. "Why didn’t you tell me?" She points at me. "Why do I have to find out from a stranger that my daughter was out and about with a man?”