When I woke again, I felt better. More like myself and settled in my skin. It was early evening, and I was starving. I didn’t feel like cooking and wasn’t in the mood to order in. Searching my fridge, I found the makings for a Cobb salad, and some leftover chicken that smelled fine. Rachel was big on chicken, so I knew it couldn’t be that old. I threw it on top of the salad, ate the whole thing, and drank about a gallon of water.
I’d just settled onto the couch and brought up Netflix on my huge TV, when the doorbell rang. I abandoned my search for something suitable to watch and went to answer it. I’d learned a long time ago to check who was there before opening the door. Although I didn’t have reporters or photographers showing up so much since I’d moved to Los Feliz, it still happened o
