Twenty-Eight

Isobelle

I had been on the phone with my mum for an hour; the handset was hot against my ear. Each time I opened my mouth to speak, Mum would butt in with more questions.

"Do you go out much?" she quizzed.

I was about to answer, but she cut me off with another question. "Or do they keep you hard at it night and day?"

Holy shit, how do I respond to that?

"I get a break now and again," I answered, fighting the urge to laugh.

"Are you eating properly?" she inquired.

"Yes, Mum. I'm being thoroughly cared for," I assured.

Strong arms snaked around my waist and Lucas playfully nipped at my earlobe.

"Ouch, Lucas!" I scolded.

"Izzy, who's Lucas?" My mum asked, her voice dragging with curiosity.

I swatted him away and pointed towards the open door, mouthing, "Get out."

"Oh, he's just the neighbor's dog, Mum," I lied quickly.

Lucas's face flooded with amused shock as he stood there, open-mouthed in the doorway. I shrugged, trying to excuse my comment as a fast improvisation.

"Aww, what breed?"