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16 | FRANCESCA PE NN

Sanya’s phone starts chiming. Maybe that was her oh-so-charming boyfriend
– please note my sarcasm – calling to find her. She shows me her phone. The
numbers are red. Negative two minutes and counting. “We are over the allotted
time for this meeting. I set a timer because I am chatty. I didn’t want to hold you
too long.” I feel a slight tinge of disappointment. I turn my phone back on and grab

hers. She watches as I call myself from her phone. I let it ring twice then hung up.

“Now I have your number, and you have mine. Text me your address, and I’ll
let you know when I can come over.” My phone dings about twenty times in a row
as the alerts roll in. Twelve text messages and six voicemails. I withhold my
irritation as I skim the messages. She is thirty-six weeks now, and the baby could
come at any moment. All twelve messages are a mixture of food requests and
accusations of cheating. It instantly raises my blood pressure. I am not a cheater. I
would break up with her before I moved on to another woman.

Sanya looks apologetic. “I’m sorry if I held you too long and got you into

trouble.” I guess I wasn’t doing a good job of hiding my annoyance.

“I’m a grown man; I don’t get in trouble.” She holds up her hands in mock
surrender and purse her lips in a way that would have delivered a sarcastic “Ohh”
if she would have made a sound.

I am immediately disarmed. I stand with mock regalness. “Come, milady. Your
chariot awaits.” My half bow earns me a giggle. She stands, smooths her skirt, and
curtsies. “Shall we?” I ask while remaining in character.

She nods like a queen and remains rigid and regal until we reach her car. We
laugh before she peels off. I have no idea how all of this will play out, but I know
we will have fun trying.