Fantastical

Chapter Eighteen Thank God You’re Home

I was pacing my living room and freaking out.

Tor had to get home and he had to get home soon.

There were two reasons for that.

One, night had fallen which meant he’d been gone all day, it had been raining or drizzling all day and, I had to admit (damn and blast!) that I was worried about him.

Two, I had a strong feeling the Cora of his world was in some deep shit.

Earlier, after he’d left, I’d laid down and when the aspirin didn’t work, I picked my way through my (filthy, Tor was right, there were used takeout cartons, dirty dishes and other debris everywhere) apartment to the kitchen hoping to make coffee. However, I found no coffee and not much else except sour milk in a carton I was pretty sure I’d left behind.

I shook the milk out in the sink and threw the carton away, got some ice water, took some ibuprofen and tried the resting thing again. Then I couldn’t rest because my house was so filthy.

So I started cleaning, throwing in some laundry, removing the sheets, picking up sodden towels, putting away my clothes and makeup and the other Cora’s expensive clothes and makeup, not to mention, tidying the glossy department store bags that still held receipts and seeing just how much money Cora had spent which nearly gave me a heart attack.

Where had she got so much money?

I found my purse and there was twenty dollars in it which, if I remembered correctly, was how much I’d left in it. I went to my computer and logged into my bank account. All my money was still there. I checked my on-line credit card statements, all the balances were nil, like I kept them, paying them off monthly.

What on earth?

I went back to cleaning and when I bent to put away the scattered DVD cases in the cabinet under my TV, wondering why on earth she pulled out what appeared to be every DVD I owned – she must have really liked movies… I thought – I found it.

Money. Stacks and stacks of it. And we weren’t talking five or ten dollar notes, here. We weren’t even talking twenties. They were all fifties and hundreds.

Holy crap!

I stared at it then sat back on my tush, slammed the doors shut and stared at the cabinet some more.

Then I went back to cleaning but now I was cleaning because I was nervous, agitated and trying not to panic and I was hoping I could concentrate on cleaning and not obsessing about all the ways Cora could get that kind of cash, every way I came up with spelling trouble for her and now… me.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

How did she get so much money?

And whose clothes were those men’s clothes in my closet and, I might add, drawers? There were jeans, t-shirts, suits, dress shirts, shoes, boots, underwear, the whole enchilada. Not many but enough to spell trouble.

Something was wrong and I didn’t want to be home alone without Tor whenever that something walked into my apartment.

I only hoped that whoever he was, he went with her when she went back like Tor came with me.

I finished tidying, scouring, wiping and vacuuming and when I finished, I took a shower, lotioned with my lotion, blow-dried my hair and put on a pair of jeans and a University of Puget Sound sweatshirt.

The clothes of Tor’s world rocked but I had to admit, it felt nice to be in a pair of jeans.

Then I sat down by the phone.

Priorities.

My parents.

“Sweetie!” my Mom cried when she heard my voice and I was relieved I wasn’t disowned. I was also close to tears just hearing her voice. I loved my Mom. “My God, where have you been? The last three times I talked to you, you said you were in a rush and you had to go, you’d call me back. Why haven’t you been calling me back?”

“Uh…”

“And who was that sexy-voiced man who answered the phone, at eleven thirty at night, I might add?”

Oh dear.

“Well –” I started.

“Damn, now I’m in a rush,” Mom cut me off. “Your father is having car problems and he’s stuck out by the bridge. You know, he won’t get rid of that dratted Volvo. I keep telling him, it’s done. He has to let it go. He’s had it for sixteen years! I keep telling he can buy a hybrid, they’re good for the environment or, at least, not as bad as other cars. I mean, does he want to be buried in that Volvo, for God’s sake?”

Dad and his Volvo. Why did discussing this, again (we’d discussed it, like, seven hundred thousand times – Mom freaking hated that Volvo) also make me want to cry?

“So, now, I have to beg off but you’re coming to dinner,” she carried on. “You’re doing it tomorrow night. I don’t care what you have going on. And you’re bringing Mr. Sexy Voice with you. I know my girl and he is why we aren’t hearing from you. I’m so pleased you’ve moved on from Brian. You know, your father and I always thought he was a bit of an idiot. Then again, any man who wouldn’t hold onto my beautiful, sweet, funny girl is an idiot.”

Oh man, totally going to cry.

“Plus,” she went on, “there is the small fact Brian voted for Bush.”

“Mom –”

“Gotta go! Our house. Tomorrow. Six. With your man. See you then! Love you, sweetie.”

Then she was gone.

I stared at the receiver then I hit the off button. The instant I did, it rang in my hand and I jumped.

Bracing (because it could be anything), I hit the on button and greeted hesitantly, “Hello?”

“Forgot to ask, sweetie, does your man not eat anything? I mean, is he a vegetarian or something?” Mom enquired.

Tor killed two Thumpers for our first dinner together. The man was so not a vegetarian it wasn’t funny and yet I burst out laughing. Probably hysterically.

Through my laughter, I said, “Uh, no Mom. He’s definitely not a vegetarian.”

“Oh, okay, well, anything else he doesn’t eat?”

I controlled my hilarity and started, “Mom, I need to explain –”

“Explain tomorrow, over wine. Now I have to know this and get your father. Is there something he doesn’t eat?”

Shit.

“I think he eats everything, Mom.”

“Great! I’ll get inspired. Promise. Later!”

Then, again she was gone.

I beeped the off button again.

Oh crap, did I just allow my mother to order me and my other world man (who I hated) to dinner?

Shit!

Then I set about calling my friends. None of them picked up. I didn’t think this was a good sign.

I left hesitant, “I really need to talk to you, something’s happened,” voicemail messages and hoped.

After that, I took the trash out to the dumpster, ran by the corner store to get staples and came back only to see Tor standing in my living room wearing a very well-tailored suit and looking around at the newly cleaned apartment.

What? Was he trying on clothes?

He turned and gave me a huge smile.

“Baby,” he growled, walked straight up to me, hauled me into his arms and laid a wet one on me.

And I knew instantly it was not Tor because whoever the hell this guy was, he kissed weird.

Which meant my body turned to stone.

He lifted his head and looked down at me.

Yep, not Tor. I hadn’t noticed it but he didn’t have a scar.

“Hey, princess, what’s goin’ on?” His eyes travelled down to my chest then shot up to my face. “And what’s with that ratty-assed sweatshirt?”

Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap!

Cora had found this world’s Tor! Why? How? Why?

“Uh… Tor?” I asked.

“What?” he asked back.

“Tor?” I tried again.

“What the fuck you talkin’ about, babe?”

Oh shit.

“Noctorno?” I tried yet again.

“That’s me, Cory, Noc, your man. What the fuck? You okay?”

He called himself Noc?

Oh boy.

“Uh...”

“Checkin’ in,” he gave me a gentle shake, his eyes scanning my face, they were alert as if he was looking for something, “wonderin’ if we’re goin’ out tonight?”

“Out?”

“To the tables, babe. Out.”

The tables?

“What tables?”

He stared down at me. Then he dipped his face close, “Shit, babe, you don’t look too good. What happened? You got a headache or something?”

I latched onto that. “Yes, actually, yes. A bad one.”

He looked at the door then down to my hands carrying plastic bags then back at me. “Then what were doin’ outside?” he asked, letting me go, taking the bags and dumping them on the dining room table saying, “You don’t feel good, you don’t go outside. You call your man, I come and take care of you.” He came back to me and his arms circled me again when he finished, “That’s the gig.”

I stared up at him.

Wow. Cold, bitchy Cora had this guy wrapped around her finger.

In two months.

And Tor fell in love with her on sight.

How did she do that?

“Cora, baby, hello? You with me?” he called.

“I’m, um… with you. Listen, what tables were you talking about?”

His brows grew together. Then he answered with a scary, “Poker.”

Poker?

The money in my TV cabinet.

Oh shit!

Cora, or this guy, was earning money, lots of it, playing poker.

“Right, yes, right, poker tables.” I shook my head. “Sorry, um… I’m kind of fuzzy. My head really hurt this morning when I got up and now I’m feeling weird.”

“Shit, babe,” he muttered then his face was in my neck, “that’s what happens when you sleep alone.” I felt his lips on my neck and I shivered (not like Tor made me shiver, another kind of shiver) at the same time I prayed Tor wouldn’t walk in the door.

“No, actually, that’s what happens when…” Damn! What did I say? Then I hit on it, the perfect excuse. “I get my period.”

His head shot up. “What?”

“I’ve got my period.”

But I didn’t. In fact, I hadn’t had one in…

My body turned to stone again.

Oh.

Shit!

“Babe, you had your period last week,” he said suspiciously.

Fuck!

Clearly Cora of the other world and I didn’t share the same cycles.

Or, damn and blast, maybe we did.

“Um…” I muttered, my mind awhirl, trying to recall when I had my last period but knowing whenever it was, it was in this world, not Tor’s.

Oh dear.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It just… gets like this. I’m, uh… irregular. It, um… sucks.”

“Sucks?”

“Yes, sucks.”

He studied me. Then he noted, “Cory, baby, never heard you use that word before.” Uh-oh. “You speak proper,” he went on and I stared up at him. Then he grinned and his voice dropped low. “Why I like you. Thought you were an uppity bitch and you are, cold as ice but with me…” He dipped his head and whispered in my ear, “Wildcat.”

Cora was a wildcat for this guy?

Whoa.

I had to get it together and I had to play this right. Until I could figure out what was going on in my life and play him out of it that was.

And I also needed to go get a freaking pregnancy test. Stat.

I wrapped my hand around his neck and whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry, um… my love. I just, well… I’m not myself.”

He lifted his head and looked at me. Then he lifted his hand and cupped my cheek.

“Can I get you something?” he asked.

Damn, this guy was kind of sweet. How did Cora latch onto him, seeing as she was such a bitch?

“No, love, just… I need to rest.”

“Fine, I’ll come by later and –”

“No!” I cried, his brows shot together and I hurried on. “No, uh, my sweet, just… I need some alone time. I’m not me. I just feel… not myself. Can you call me later?”

His eyes narrowed and he informed me, “This is two nights you’ve wanted to be alone. Babe, my clothes are in your closet. You get what that means?”

Did he live at my place?

He, luckily, went on, “I’m happy to give you space, you need it, I got my own. But, you got issues, we need to sort them out. You with me?”

Shoo. He had his own space. All was not lost.

“I’m with you. And I don’t have any issues.” Yeah, right. “It’s… um, I just don’t feel good, Noc. Can you give me some time? When I feel better, everything will be okay.”

Fat chance of that.

His eyes moved over my face. Then he said softly, “Yeah, baby, I can give you some time.”

Damn, he was sweet.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“You’ll call me, you need anything?”

I nodded and he smiled. It was nearly as good as Tor’s.

“Give your man a kiss, yeah?”

Oh boy.

I nodded. Bit my lip, went up on my toes and gave him a kiss. His mouth opened over mine and he gave me a deeper, wetter one. I managed to return it which meant it unfortunately got deeper, wetter and hotter leaving me thinking it wasn’t weird, it was just different. In my opinion not as good as Tor’s but also not bad by a long shot.

His lips left mine and when I opened my eyes, I saw him quickly shutter the surprise in his.

Weird. What was that?

Then, after searching my face for a second, he kissed my forehead.

Wow. That was sweet too.

Then he looked me in the eyes. “I’ll call you later, babe.”

“Okay,” I whispered. “Later, um… love.”

He grinned at me, gave me a squeeze, let me go and walked out the door.

I collapsed on my sofa.

After I recuperated from Noc’s visit (while staring at the TV cabinet like it would explode at any minute and take me with it in its ball of flame), I made myself a fried bologna sandwich with three pieces of bologna and a melted square of American cheese on top. I toasted the bread and smothered it with mustard. Then I made myself another one. Then I ate a quarter bag of Cheetos. Then I popped a Diet Coke.

After sucking some back and stopping myself from hyperventilating, I called work.

“The Arthur Broderick Agency, this is Esther, can I help you?”

Oh crap.

Some chick named Esther answered my extension.

“Um, Esther, is Mr. Arthur there?” I asked.

“Can I tell him who’s calling?”

“Cora Goode,” I answered.

“One moment,” she replied, I waited, listened to bad music and then, faster than I expected, Dave Arthur, my boss, was on the phone.

“Cora?”

“Dave, hello, I –”

“Cora, thank God. Everyone’s been worried sick about you!”

Thank God? Worried sick?

“Um…”

“You were no call, no show. You’re never no call, no show. Hell, you’re never no show! Phoebe went to your apartment, said it looked like a disaster hit it and your car was gone.”

Phoebe, my best friend in and out of the office (therefore she had a key to my apartment) came to my place?

And my car was gone?

“For weeks, we’ve been phoning the police and hospitals,” he continued.

Oh dear.

“Why didn’t you phone my folks?” I asked stupidly because I should be thankful he didn’t. “They’re my emergency contacts.”

“I couldn’t phone Dara and Forrest and worry them if something wasn’t right with you,” he said, sounding aghast and I was grateful that my Mom and Dad knew my boss and they had formed a bond over multiple games of Apples to Apples. “Especially when Phoebe went back, saw some big guy walking out of your apartment, she says he looked like he was living there and when she tried her key, it didn’t work. She thought you’d moved out or something really bad had happened, like you got hooked up with this dude and he was bad news. God, I’m so fucking glad you phoned and sound all right.”

What?

“Dave, don’t you think you’d get a call if something bad went down with me?” I asked stupid, stupid, stupidly.

He paused. Then he asked, “Yeah, I would. So where have you been?”

Stupid!

“Well, I’m calling to say…” Shit! “Something bad went down with me.”

“Oh my God! What? Are you okay?”

Seriously, this was why The Arthur Broderick Agency weren’t doing all that great. Dave was awesome, he was a creative mastermind when it came to advertising and he could charm a snake but he was mostly a flake and Boyd Broderick wasn’t much better. They were college roommates and they still wore beer bong hats and got toasted in their offices frequently.

“I…” I started, my mind searching then I came up with it, “got in an accident.”

“Holy shit! Were you hurt?”

“No, I mean, yes. I had a head injury.”

“Oh, Cora, I can’t believe it! That sucks! I can’t believe Dara and Forrest didn’t phone. They went it alone. That’s awful. We could have, I don’t know, sent a fruit basket or something. Are you okay?”

“Um, well, I had amnesia for awhile so obviously, uh… forgot where I worked…” Pure soap opera, was he going to buy this shit? “And so, no… I’m still recovering and…” Was I going to do this? Damn, I was. “I need a bit more time.”

“Whatever you need. We’ll activate the extended sick leave policy for you. We had to, you know, stop your pay. HR made us do it, swear. But we’ll reinstate it and get you reimbursed for…”

“No,” I cut in, feeling like a cheat, “you don’t have to do that.”

“Of course we do. You’ve been with us frickin’ forever.”

God, that was nice.

“No, really, I have special insurance for, you know, that kind of thing,” I lied and kept lying. “I’m good. Totally okay. I just need another week. Maybe two. And then, um… can I come back?”

“Yeah, sure, totally,” Dave told me. “We have an ad in the paper but we’ve been getting temps and they, like, totally suck so, abso-freaking-lutely. Can’t wait to have you back but you get healthy first, hear?”

My boss rocked.

“Thanks, Dave.”

“Good to hear your voice, Cora. Sucks you had an accident but glad you’re gonna be okay.”

“Thanks.”

“Later, Cora.”

“Bye, Dave.”

I hit the off button.

Then I stared at the phone.

Then I started giggling, this, I knew, was definitely hysteria.

Then I did more laundry, folded clothes, tidied them away and put clean sheets on the bed.

Then I did another round of phone calls to my friends, none of whom, again, picked up.

After that, I started freaking out.

And after that, I started pacing, waiting for Tor to return and trying not to panic.

And now, it was after eight, he left just after nine thirty, it was raining and he wasn’t home.

He was probably in an emergency room, every bone in his beautiful body broken, having been hit by a bus.

Sure he was a dick and an asshole who ripped my heart out and stomped on it, but when I was new to his world, he took care of me. Yes, there was a curse that started and the small fact he thought I was his wife that made him take care of me, but he did.

He killed rabbits for me.

And I let him go out and be hit by a bus.

Shit!

The door opened and he walked through, hair wet, clothes drenched and plastered to him, looking hot.

Not thinking, I ran to him, grabbed his shirt in my fists, pressed to his wet body and tipped my head back to look at him as his arms slid around me.

“Thank God you’re home,” I breathed.

Tor stared into my face.

Then he smiled.