The Light of Day by Kristen Kehoe Page A

belly, but in the last year he’s really turned into a diva. 
                  When I finally arrive at the downtown apartment that matches the address Cora texted me earlier in the week, I spend another ten minutes searching for my parking spot, only to find it’s on the top floor in the uncovered part of the parking structure, approximately three floors above where our apartment actually rests.  Awesome.
                  Grabbing the cat and my phone, I tug on my hood and sprint through the rain, grateful that the stairs are covered.  When I get to our door, I knock and scan the area as I wait.  Unlike my outdoor apartment that I shared with Murph, with its individual walkways for each condo¸ this is indoor, much like a hotel, and is going to cost an easy thousand more than the apartment in Arizona that I shared with Murph.  When Blue opens the door wearing athletic pants that fit like a second skin, and an oversized T-shirt the color of sunset that’s slipping off one shoulder, I think it could cost two grand more and I’d still pay it.
                  She is a mortal danger to all men.   The line from Cyrano runs through my head and b efore either of us can think too much, I lean in and press my lips to hers, quick and firm.  My free hand reaches up to cup her cheek and I angle my head a little to the right, my tongue sweeping out and over her lips, drinking in the taste of her that’s haunted me for the past month while we’ve been apart.
    Her hands come to my chest and I release her, but not before I place another peck on her lips.  I lean back and grin, happy despite her narrowed look.
    “Hey, roomie.”
    “Don’t expect to come home to a greeting like that again.”
    “I wouldn’t be opposed.”
    “Well, I am.  I’m serious, Jake,” she says.  “If this is going to work, you have to respect those boundaries we talked about.  That means not touching me.”
    I hold out my hand.  “I know, and I promise, I will.  But it’s been a long damn month, Blue, and I’ve been on the road for two days.  The sight of you was just too much.”
    As if to punctuate my words, Yogi mews and Cora’s eyes zero in on him.  They widen briefly and then come back to mine.  “What the hell is that?”
    “Blue, meet Yogi.  He’s been with me since last year when I found him outside of the stadium in a cardboard box.  He was the only one left and I couldn’t leave him.”  When she just continues to stare, I bend down a little so I can meet her eyes.  “You’re not allergic, are you?”
    She shakes her head no.  Then she looks back at Yogi and I see that small smile.  “A cat? Jesus, Handsome Jake, how did you ever get to player status while harboring a feline friend?”
                  I leave Yogi and Blue to get acquainted while I make the trips to and from my old Rover to bring in my clothes and other things.  The big stuff was already shipped and moved into my room.  I don’t know if Cora told the movers where to put everything or if they decided on their own, but the bed in the center of one wall, facing the desk that’s against the window works fine for me, and I start dumping stuff on the floor around it.
                  As I walk through the apartment each trip, I take in a little bit more of the space and the décor and I’m grateful for what I see.  Nothing is overly girly or fussy, and the color scheme appears to be neutral with bold slashes of royal blue and some lighter grays in fabrics and paint.  There’s an overstuffed chair with its back to the door, with a couch parallel and facing a wall where I assume the television will go (my television, as Cora’s is only thirty inches.  Please, my computer screen is bigger).  Both are oversized and done in some light fabric back cushion with a leather seat.
                  I saw them in the picture Blue sent me, and I’m grateful to see now that they’re as