Since then he’d made me promise not to be out of touch, which, given that my lifestyle occasionally—and through no fault of my own—had put me in harm’s way, was not an unreasonable request. Because I always keep my promises, even when I don’t want to, I texted Miles as soon as I returned to the room. On my way to dinner. Turning off phone. But before I could do that, the incoming message chime sounded. Call me. Going to bed early. Long day. How early? Don’t be needy. The message came back with the speed of light: Excuse me? I turned off my phone and pretended I didn’t receive it. I took a quick shower, changed into clean jeans and a tee shirt without a slogan on it (which is dress-up in the world of dogs) and patted makeup over the red-blue bruise across the bridge of my nose. I always travel with sheets from home to cover the hotel furniture, and I spread one of them over the small sofa in the sitting area and another across the bed, although Cisco really, really knew better than to get on the bed while I was away.
