“I can see that. Why?”

“Because standing is… a lot.”

“Are you waiting for a car?”

“I think so?”

“Did you order one?”

“I think so?”

I sigh and take his phone from him. The app should show me where the car is and the estimated wait time.

“Asher, you didn’t order a car.”

“I didn’t?”

“You ordered twelve lemon loaves from a Starbucks in Utah.”

“We’ll never make it there before they close.”

I sit down next to him on the cold stone steps and find the Uber app. I order a car for him and give him his phone.

“It’ll be here in five minutes.”

“The lemon loaves?”

“No, the car.”

“Oh,” he says. “But what about the lemon loaves?”

“They’re in Utah.”

He frowns. “That’s a shame.”

I brace my feet on the step, ready to stand, but I don’t move. Leaving him drunk on a stoop feels wrong.

Leaving you alone with Levi was also wrong, my head says.

In his defense, my heart says, he didn’t know she was with Levi.

He still ignored her call.

He obviously regrets it.

I want to see the receipts.

Look at him!

I’m looking.

“I still have your panties.”

My cheeks are already red from the cold, but a heat rises up my neck at Asher’s words.

“I washed them,” he says. “I’m not some pervert who likes dirty panties.”

“I… didn’t think you were.”

“I haven’t washed my sheets, though,” he continues. “They still smell like you. Sometimes I wake up and think you’re there.”

“Asher—”

“I should have been there,” he whispers. “He shouldn’t have touched you. I would have never let him touch you.”

His voice shakes. I think he’s going to start crying and I know I’m going to start crying. This isn’t how I want the night to end. Crying on a stoop with Asher, because everything that was supposed to be fake is very, very real.

When the car pulls up, I help Asher stand. He towers over me, and my heels make it almost impossible to maneuver us both down the few short steps to the curb. I somehow manage to get the door open and shove Asher into the backseat. I’m ready to send him off, but I see him slumped over helplessly. How is he going to get up to his apartment? How is he going to get into bed?

Olivia, my head warns.

Shut up, my heart replies.

I slide in next to him. I don’t even have the door shut before I feel his head on my shoulder.