I called a cab company and gave them the intersection. They said it would be “hours.” In other words, they weren’t coming here. I started to walk. I headed toward the two drunk guys, only because I didn’t dare turn my back on them. They stopped arguing and fixed me with assessing stares. I stared back. One grumbled and resumed the argument. The other gave in after a pause, and they went back at it, ignoring me.

I called Ricky. “I hate to do this,” I said when he answered. “But could you pick me up?”

“Sure.” The thud-thud of his feet hitting the floor, followed by a stifled yawn.

“I woke you, didn’t I?”

“Nope. Just finishing a very boring reading, waiting for my good-night text. What happened? Where’s Gabriel?”

I paused and then said, “You were right.”

“And from the sound of you, I’d rather I wasn’t. What was I right about?”

“He found out about Gwynn and Arawn. That he’s Gwynn. He . . .” I inhaled. “It went badly. Really badly. We argued. I got out of the car. He took off. I waited in case he came back, and I did phone a cab, so I wouldn’t bother you—”

“Call me first. Always. Where are you?” The click of the door and the scrape of the key as he locked the deadbolt.

I told him.

“He left you there? God-fucking-damn him. What do you see? We need to get you someplace safe until I arrive. Restaurant, coffee shop, corner store—hell, even a twenty-four-hour laundry. I’ll stay on the line until you’re there.”

—

Ricky picked me up and took me back to his apartment, where we made love. It really was making love, not having sex. It was my apology, even if he’d never know I had something to apologize for.

I remembered everything Gabriel had said in that car, lashing out in the way guaranteed to hurt the most. Telling me what, in my gut, I feared most—that I’d been tricked, that this was all a ruse, and I was steering my life based on hallucinations. Telling me that I was also hallucinating anything between us, that if I thought we were friends, then I was a silly little fool.

That’s the guy I’d considered leaving Ricky for. Just so I’d be free to be with him, however he’d have me. Exactly how pathetic was that?

I really had been a silly little fool, and now I made it up to Ricky. Afterward, we lay there, Ricky on his back, me curled up against him, my hand on his chest, feeling his heart slowing as I traced the edges of his triskele tattoo.

“Can I see the designs for ours yet?” I asked.

“They’re on my phone,” he mumbled sleepily. “You get it, and we’ll look. If I can open my eyes.”