Chapter Eight
I wake to a pounding on my front door. I roll over, and my brain throbs against my skull. Too much sake, I think as I roll out of bed. I don't know what time it is, where I left my cell phone, or who could possibly be making such a racket behind my door. I pull on my long, well-worn bathrobe and stumble into the living room. I peek through the peep hole and am filled with both relief and guilt when I see Paul's face staring back at me. I reach for the doorknob but stop myself and glance toward the couch. My outfit from last night is still lying haphazardly discarded on the floor. I cross the room quickly, gather the clothes, and toss them into my bathroom hamper. I return to the door and open it calmly.
“Hi,” I greet Paul casually.
“Kiara, I've been so worried about you. I
