Dom stands up and walks me to the door. He opens it for me.

“Don’t worry about it; you paid in doughnuts.”

“Well, yeah, but I kind of worry the stench of the tuna is now inked into your walls.” And your soul.

He laughs. “It’ll remind me of the ocean.”

“Ugh, Dom. You are obnoxiously optimistic. Have a good life.”

I’m stepping away from his threshold when he blurts out, “Can I have your number?”

I turn around and stare at him, just to make sure I heard him right.

“Mine?” I stab my chest with a finger, looking around, like there are other people on his doorstep. Hasn’t he listened to our conversation? We’re polar opposites. In looks too. He is movie-star gorgeous, and I’m pitifully normal. Not ugly by any stretch of the imagination, but nothing to write home about.

“Yours.” He ducks his head down . . . is he blushing? For real?

“But . . . why?” I ask, flabbergasted.

“Because I had fun?” He raises an eyebrow in confusion. “And because I made the deduction that if you had a boyfriend, you wouldn’t have wanted to wait for your roommate and her man to come with you.”

He’s got me there. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I admit.

“Great for me. Sucks for hypothetical him.” His smile widens. It’s a nice smile. And he’s a great guy—gorgeous, funny, and way nicer than I deserve—but I’m not in the market for romance. For boyfriends. For magic.

It depresses me, because if a guy like Dom can’t get under my skin, who could? He is perfect.

Perfect is boring, I hear Mom yawning in my head. It’s a state where there’s no room to grow.

“It’s just that . . . ,” I start, shifting Loki’s carrier from one hand to the other. “I’m still kind of hung up on someone.”

“An ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” None of this is a lie—I am still hung up on Joe, and he is technically my ex-boyfriend. But I can’t help but feel a little stupid, talking about something that ended six years ago. “Sorry,” I add awkwardly.

Dom shakes his head. “No hard feelings. Have a good life, EverlynneL.”

“You, too, DominicG.”

When I check my phone in the car, there are a few messages from Nora.

Nora: I just Google Earthed the address. I think Loki is looking for a new sugar daddy.

Nora: Okay, it’s been twenty minutes. Answer me.

Nora: Thirty now. Did sugar daddy kidnap you???

Nora: Forty. I’m sending help.

Nora: FIFTY. And I really don’t want to be that Karen who overreacts by calling the cops but OH MY GOD, SHOULD I?

I laugh and text her back.

Ever: It’s me. I’m fine. Loki is fine. Everything is fine.

Nora: I don’t believe you. Say something Ever would say so I know that it’s you and not your sadistic capturer trying to throw me off scent because really he killed you and got rid of your body and wants it to decompose before I send out a search party.