I didn't manage to get this Wednesday's update done before getting dragged off to a foreign and exotic land for a work emergency and forgetting my laptop at home. I've been trying to write on my phone, but it's slow and the formatting is reprehensible. Definitely not safe for publication.

I'm going to be here in Whitefish, Montana for at least through Monday, so there's no way a Saturday update will happen, either. With any luck we can get back on track next Wednesday.

I've been kicking myself for not packing my laptop. I was in such a rush to grab what I'd needed and get to the airport on time that it didn't even occur to me until it was too late.

So, sorry, my beautiful and faithful readers. Mea culpa. I dropped the ball on this one.

Royal Road requires a 500 word minimum per chapter update, so I'm just going to copy and paste something from a past chapter here to make up the minimum.

Stopping in the kitchen for some water, I found Grant at the breakfast table drinking a cup of coffee and eating some sort of pastry from the little bakery over on First Avenue.

“We had some excitement last night,” I mentioned.

“Yeah?” he asked, looking up from the newspaper crossword. “What happened?”

“A tweaker pulled a gun on us, so I beat the crap out of him,’ I said, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Oh. Serves him right,” Grant replied, then went back to the puzzle.

Figuring that was the end of the conversation, I went for my run. I opted to go a different way this time, heading up 50th street to Fifth Avenue, then into Central Park. By this point I was getting used to the rhythm of running on Manhattan sidewalks. Thankfully the pedestrian traffic is light at five in the morning, so I didn’t have to dodge that many people as I ran. I’d also learned to look half a block up at the stoplights to time my arrival for green lights. Stopping cold at a red light really sucks, and I did my best to avoid it whenever I could, either by slowing a bit or sprinting to make the light.

Central Park itself was really nice- I stuck mostly to the outside-most paths on a counterclockwise loop around the park and enjoyed the scenery quite a bit. Even at that early hour there were quite a few runners, cyclists and skaters out for their morning workouts, which I was happy to see. My Roosevelt Island loop was generally a solitary affair, but the park was filled with others enjoying the early morning.

Back at the house, I slipped into the bedroom as quietly as I could, and to my complete lack of surprise Emmy and Luisa were still asleep.

After my shower, I peeked in the bedroom again, only to find that they were awake, but talking in low, hushed tones to each other.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I asked “How are you two doing?” Honestly, I wasn’t worried about Emmy, just Luisa, but I didn’t want to single her out.

“I guess I’m O.K.,” Luisa said, not sounding too convinced. “I’m still not too sure what actually happened. Did that guy actually try to shoot us?”

“I’ll tell you what. Get up, take a shower, get dressed, and I’ll explain everything over breakfast,” I said. “See you in the sunroom in an hour?”

“Yeah, O.K.”

“Hey, I’m going to head over to the bakery on the corner for some stuff for breakfast. You two want coffee?”

Receiving two enthusiastic yeses, I wandered down to the kitchen to see if Grant was still there.

Finding no sign of the guy, I strolled over to the bakery and got some croissants and some breakfast sandwiches in addition to the four coffees. It was nice, just doing normal things like an ordinary person. Not getting to cut to the head of the line because Emmy is a celebrity, not getting special treatment because I’m a millionaire. Just getting some coffees and baked goods to take home, that’s all.