Love By The Book by Dara England

breakfast,” I said, entering the kitchen and snagging a cup of low fat yogurt from the fridge. I kept my tone casual and hoped he wouldn’t notice that I didn’t quite meet his eyes. I had decided the best approach was just to act as if nothing had happened at all. As far as I was concerned the incident last night had never occurred, or so I would make believe.
    He seemed willing to play along. “Yes. Your charming friend showed me around your kitchen and invited me to wait on myself. And she showed me how to work this amazing contraption called a coffee maker. I hope you don’t mind.”
    “Not at all,” I said. Charming friend . He wouldn’t be calling Carlita charming if he could’ve heard all she’d had to say about him last night. Turning my back to hide a grimace, I got the juice out of the refrigerator and poured myself a glass. Scrambling up onto the stool beside him, I dreaded what I suspected would be a long stretch of uneasy silence, punctuated by noisy crunching and slurping.
    Fortunately, I was spared that when he started a conversation right away. “These are pleasant rooms you keep here. I don’t know that I’ve ever passed a more comfortable night than I did sleeping on that piece of furniture.”
    I smiled. “Thanks for the lie, but you don’t have to be polite. This place is a roach pit, and that sofa is older than I am. It’s just temporary, until I get my career going and then I’ll be kissing this rat’s den goodbye.”
    “Really? What kind of career is that? I thought you mentioned before you were out of employment.”
    “I am. It’s just that…” I let my sentence trail off, feeling strangely uncomfortable discussing my artistic dreams with him. I didn’t talk about those much. Not even with Carlita or my own family.
    He came to my rescue. “Just that someday you hope to do better for yourself. I understand.”
    We were interrupted by Carlita entering the kitchen. “Ah, good. You’re both up. I thought you were going to sleep through the day. Not that I’d blame you, but us working girls don’t get so lucky.”
    “Carlita,” I said. “I thought you were gone.”
    “Another second and I will be.” She poured a cup of coffee for herself. “I’m running late. So what do you two have planned for the morning and afternoon? Tell me quick. I’ve only got about ten seconds.”
    I hesitated, looking at Duke. We hadn’t discussed doing anything together yet. In fact there’d been no talk of seeing each other again at all after last night. Nevertheless, he was looking at me just as expectantly as Carlita was, as if waiting for me to make the decision.
    I clutched at the plan I’d come up with during the wee hours of the morning. “I thought we’d go to the museum. Duke hasn’t seen a lot of the city, and no tourist should miss one of the greatest exhibits in the country.”
    Duke looked accepting of the idea.
    “Ah, okay then,” Carlita said easily. “You two have fun. Just don’t forget the time, if you know what I mean.”
    I did know what she meant. I followed her to the door and watched her snatch her purse down from a peg on the wall. We couldn’t talk, not in front of Duke, but she tapped her watch and gave me a meaningful smile as she stepped out the door. “Duke, it was interesting meeting you,” she called back. “Megan, good luck.” And then she was gone.
    “What did she mean by that?” Duke asked. “Good luck? ”
    “Uh, it’s nothing. Listen, we’d better get ready to clear out if we’re going to the museum today.” I wasn’t sure why I suddenly felt the need to rush. And then I remembered. Forty-eight hours . And the clock was already ticking.

    ***

    Climbing the museum’s front steps and entering with a stream of people through the wide double doors felt odd to me. This wasn’t a place where I’d spent a lot of time lately but I used to come all the time, in the days when I’d been totally absorbed in my painting and my love for