Fixation Read Online Free Page A

crackle-glass jars in various jewel-tones;, so I plugged those in as well and sighed with contentment at the instant transformation of the room from something slightly shabby to almost magically exotic. Amazing what a little creative lighting can do.
    A plaintive meow from the kitchen caught my attention as Luna, my fragile seventeen-year-old tabby cat, poked her head out to welcome me home and remind me it was way past her dinnertime. I’d had Luna since I was thirteen, taking her with me when I moved out of my parents’ house in Marin. She had major kidney issues and needed subcutaneous fluids every other day, but was hanging in there, I think mainly because I couldn’t imagine life without her and she was afraid to leave me alone.
    Luna meowed again and padded back the kitchen, swaying unsteadily on her feet.
    “Hey, baby,” I cooed, and hurried after her.
    My kitchen was tiny, just enough room for a small sky blue end table and matching chair which sat next to another bay window, a smaller one than the window in the living room. It was also decorated with fairy lights and crystal strands.
    The counter space was negligible, as was storage, but I didn’t have a lot of dishes or cookware and tended to shop in the European style (daily or as needed) so I managed. I grabbed a can of food from the cupboard above the ancient gas stove, dumped it in a ceramic bowl, added hot water and stirred it into cat food soup. Setting it down next to the table, I poured myself a glass of some inexpensive chardonnay from Trader Joe’s and made myself a quick dinner of water crackers, goat cheese, and pear slices. I sat at the table so Luna and I could eat our respective dinners together.
    Finishing my snack, I poured myself another glass of wine. Luna hadn’t eaten much of her food, so I covered it with foil and put it in the fridge. Her appetite seemed to decrease daily, although her insistence on regular meal times was as strict as ever. Guilt washed over me as I watched her make her way into the living room with an unsteady gait, as if each step was an effort. Sooner or later I’d have to find the strength to let her know it was okay to move on. Just not tonight.
    I took my wine into the living room and flopped on the couch. I needed to shower, but somehow the thought of taking off clothes and turning on the water was way too much effort about now.
    Honesty, it was just as well that Jesse was out of town this weekend. He was definitely an “I want my woman perfumed and pretty” type of guy, even on casual dates.
    I mean, it wasn’t that I needed a lot of work. My short honey-blond hair required approximately thirty seconds of attention, most of it involving a brisk towel dry before I left it to its own devices. I have regular features, neither homely nor beautiful, but my eyes are a rich, dark brown rimmed with long, thick lashes visible without mascara. I used to use a lot of makeup to emphasize them, but makeup makes me look like a TV evangelist’s wife and I wised up. Now I just used a little bit of eyeliner on the inner lash line. That and a bit of blush-colored lip gloss pretty much completed my makeup regime these days.
    When we first started dating, Jesse made a big fuss over my “natural beauty.” But lately he’d been dropping hints about wanting to see what I’d look like if I went for a more “glamorous” look. I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, although I suspected it had something to do with glam eye shadow and a wardrobe consisting of more than jeans and Gap T-shirts.
    I’d “read” Jesse just enough to know that he was attracted to me and found my personality refreshing. I hadn’t gone beyond that because a) it was an invasion of privacy akin to reading someone’s diary (which I’d done) and b) it hadn’t worked out well in the past.
    Speaking of Jesse, he’d promised to call me from Dallas around eight so I probably had a message from him. Peeling myself off the couch, I went into my bedroom to