I am not a fastidious cleaner. Not even close. But I do like my home to look a certain way, have a certain style. Right now, that style is colliding with Greenlee's, and not altogether successfully either. Greenlee's furniture is exotic, ornate, a royal gilded table from Burma, a fringed and crystal lamp from France. Looking at it cluttering up the sleek modern simplicity of my home is giving me a headache.
Where is she anyway?
We had made plans to meet for dinner, somewhere nice and fancy as a way to apologize for the dinner no-show the night before. But apparently she had lost track of time. I hadn't seen her since breakfast. She couldn't still be out at the nursery, could she? Did our home really need that much greenery?
Well, I guess I may as well go. Those reservations took a lot of hard work on my part, being so short notice. But I certainly wasn't going to dine alone. That had never been my style. I pick up the phone and stare at it momentarily, perusing my options. I want to call Kendall. I ache to call Kendall. But I know that I can't. Then I make a snap decision, and start dialing.
Author's Note- Ryan gets short chapters, because Ryan is boring.