Chapter 56
Chapter fifty-six
Christianna
Waking up to gentle sunlight creeping across my bed, I can’t help but smile as I stretch leisurely.
I crawl out of the huge bed. Raindrop and Dewdrop don't stir as I pad to the balcony . Cool air brushes my skin. Below, the pool glimmers in the early light, the yard beyond it stretching toward Audubon Park. The walking paths wind through the trees, but they feel distant from here. Safe.
I wrap my arms around myself and do a small dance of joy.
This, is mine. I'm in the city but don't feel confined.
Things are finally turning around. Yes, it borders the road on one side, but the only empty lot in the subdivision is next to me, and the other side shares with one of the Tulane properties.
Perfect privacy, but right in the city. My best friend yards away.
Meg’s pool house sits tucked near the western edge, close enough to wander over for coffee, far enough to feel like her own space.
I glance back at the dogs. I like that they share a name, in a way. But the Drops feels off. Too small. Too temporary.
I walk back to the bed and lean over them. “Would you like to go outside?” I ask, suddenly worried they haven’t moved in over seven hours.
Dewdrop opens one eye, then nestles closer into Raindrop. Raindrop rolls onto his back, fully splayed out, lips falling back into a loose, doggy grin.
My heart melts. They are so cute. Guess that answers that.
“Do you want to eat?” I ask.
Both dogs explode off the bed and tear down the hallway toward the kitchen, nails skidding on hardwood and tile.
Priorities established. Food. Then sleep.
I follow them downstairs, grabbing my phone to text Meg.
Sending the Drops out into the yard. Watch your step.
As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear the chime of Meg’s phone.
“Morning,” she calls. “I was already here to get coffee. And no, I don’t think they’re guard dogs.”
I laugh as I guide the dogs out into the backyard.
“It has to feel like it belongs to them before they’ll guard it,” I tell her.
My phone vibrates in my hand. I ignore it. The only person I am messaging is already here.
It vibrates again. And again.
With a small, irritated growl, I check my notifications.
I have hundreds of emails.
“Does buying a house sign you up for some kind of spam list?” I ask Meg.
I cross to the counter and set my phone down.
I grab one of the coffee cups the guys brought over. They left four. I choose an oversized mug with a treble clef handle that curves into a musical staff wrapping the cup.
Meg’s mug has a matching bass clef.
I stare at the notes. The notes.
Something clicks.
“What do you think of Bass and Treble?” I ask.
Meg stares at me like I just asked if unicorns fart glitter.
“The dogs,” I clarify. “What if instead of the Drops, they’re the Notes?”
Her face lights up. “Oh, I love it. And Raindrop would be Treble for sure.”
I drop the pod into the machine and hit the button. My phone vibrates again, skittering toward the edge of the counter.
“Seriously. What the hell,” I mutter, grabbing it before it falls.
“I now have three hundred eighty nine emails.”
I open my inbox as Meg looks over my shoulder.
All notifications from hookup apps, porn sites, things I’ve never touched.
The messages keep coming.
Meg grabs her phone and searches my name. An image pops up.
I turn to the sink and retch.
Tears burn my eyes.
Someone has put my face on someone else’s body. It is obvious. The girl has double D’s where I have a B cup. The logic does not matter.
I’ve been violated all over again.