Long Distance Lover by Rylee Swann

Author:Rylee Swann [Swann, Rylee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

12

Jayson

Back when I was drinking, there were days I didn’t bother to put on pants. I often had hangovers too brutal to make the effort. I made up a holiday called “No Pants Day” and would tell Dee time after time that the holiday had rolled around again. Dee would laugh, but I could see in her eyes she’d rather I got dressed, did something, anything productive. I never did.

That’s why I now find myself standing in front of the small pile of clothes that I own in my tiny studio in a small town that is slowly starting to feel like home, frowning in dismay. I want to look my best for our dinner date. Pants and all.

“At least they’re clean,” I say to the empty room, grunting out a self-deprecating laugh.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I grab a pair of dark-wash blue jeans and a black collared shirt. This will have to do. I picked up a cheap full-length mirror at the dollar store the other day, and after donning the clothing, check the look. I want to be visually appealing to Dee. Everything I do is for her. She deserves the effort, especially after all the selfish shit I put her through. I was a poor excuse for a boyfriend, and I have a boatload of amends to make.

Cursing, I realize I forgot to shave. My five o’clock shadow has already taken up residence on my face, but there’s no time for that now. I refuse to be late in picking Dee up. With a nod to my attire and a grimace for my carelessness, I grab my keys and dash.

She answers the door on the first knock. A mass of dark wavy curls surround her face and cascade down her back. She’s stunning and takes my breath away, but I don’t forget to compliment her.

“You look fantastic.” My tone is heartfelt, and she graces me with a sweet smile.

“Thank you.” She opens the door wider and a black blur takes shape in the shadowy darkness of her living room. “Don’t forget to say hello to our dog.”

The dog she christened Mac whines a toothy greeting and I hold out my hand for him to sniff. After a quick whiff, he covers it in slobbery goodness. Laughing, I scratch him behind the ears.

“Our dog?” While scratching, I unobtrusively wipe the slobber back onto his coat.

“Yes,” she says in a firm tone. “And don’t you dare try to shirk your responsibilities. When you finally move from that tiny studio apartment, as you describe it, you can take Mac off my hands every other weekend or so.” I laugh like that’s not going to happen, and she calls me on it. “Oh, don’t you think you’re getting out of co-ownership. In fact, the next case of dogfood is on you.”

Her eyes are alight with playfulness, but I know she’s serious. I love dogs, however, taking care of myself is a full-time job. Dogfood though, I can handle.

“Done. Call me when Mac needs more Alpo or that Wilderness stuff that costs a fortune.

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