Читать книгу Miranda Sparks’ wonderful life онлайн

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– Naturally. Thank you for you. – I swallowed audibly. – Be in the lobby by 9:30. Oh, that’s great.

– Does that mean you will go?

– Yes, I will.

– Then I won’t take up your time.

– Thanks again.

Frances smiled sweetly before I closed the door. I’d always loved traveling, no matter where it took me, as long as it was food. At times, of course, it depended on the company I was traveling with and the destination, but still, in all travel, there was that pulling road ahead that made my heart pound furiously in my chest. So I can safely say – the best remedy for a disgusting mood, for me, is a trip.

I didn’t wash my head, I just put my hair in a high ponytail. I brushed my teeth quickly, packed everything I needed in my bag, and took my phone and left the room. As I rode the elevator down to the bottom floor of the hotel, Miranda texted me, worried about my health as usual and asked how long I would be in Algiers. Then I got another text from her about our neighbor, Mr. Nice Ass-as her friend called him-that he was now back in his apartment.