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 f**k you talkin’ about, babe?”

Oh shit.

“Noctorno?” I tried yet again.

“That’s me, Cory, Noc, your man. What the f**k? 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.