Page 101 of Her Sloth

A grin—there it is, her fire back on to test the boundaries and challenge what I just said.

But she doesn’t. She breathes and drives as carefully as possible. Meh.

We drive from the Van Nuys Airport for half an hour, leaving North Hollywood and the L.A. behind us.

The moment we’re on the Old Topanga Canyon Road, I let down the window, close my eyes, and just breathe.

Goosebumps appear on my arms because I’m home.

The only place of peace left on this earth.

“Turn into that driveway,” I say, pointing left towards the old-looking wooden gate with no number on it.

It opens automatically and she looks at me, wildly irritated.

I nod to her, telling her to just drive, secretly grinning to myself, because she is so far out of her comfort zone.

We drive up the dry gravel path leading up to my hideaway.

“You live here?” she asks a tad too incredulous as she comes to a halt in front of the house.

“Yes,” I say with a laugh.

“Huh,” she says as if she has seen Santa, looks at me, at the house, back at me.

“Expected something different?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Figured you’d live in one of these elitist Hollywood Hills thingys with your own airplane and everything.”

“Nah,” I say and heave myself out of the car. “This here is me.”

Suddenly, a shout.

“Addy!”

Luke comes running towards me.

His hand shoots to his mouth as he reaches me before he hugs me.

“That bad?” I ask, laughing in gallows humor.

He needs one second to collect himself.

“Babe,” he then says, beaming at me. “Fabulous as ever.”

“Liar,” I say and hug him. Very, very carefully.

“Meet Cass,” I tell him when we let go. “Cass, Luke. I believe you know each other by distance.”

“So that’s the grumpy gremlin everyone fears,” he says as he walks over to her. “I imagined her to be…taller,” he adds sardonically.

“Permission to punch him?” she asks me.

I have to laugh even more.

“Granted.”

Whack.