I stopped by my apartment before going to his restaurant to pack a bag just in case this was a possibility, so I get to his place before he does. While I wait for Atlas, I use the time in my car to check in with Allysa.

Did she fall asleep okay?

Just fine. How’s your night going?

Just fine. ;)

Have fun. I expect a full report.

Atlas’s headlights shine through my car as he pulls into his driveway. I’m still gathering my things when he opens my car door. As soon as I climb out of the car, Atlas dips an impatient hand into my hair and kisses me. It’s the kind of kiss that screams I’ve missed kissing you.

When he pulls back, he studies my face with a gentle smile. “I liked you watching me in the kitchen tonight.”

A shiver passes over me. “I like watching you.” I can’t say it without grinning. I grab my bag from the passenger seat, and Atlas takes it from me and hoists it over his shoulder. I follow him through the garage. He still has moving boxes piled up along one wall. There’s a weight bench in pieces on the floor next to the unpacked boxes. There are two full baskets of laundry sitting in front of a washer and dryer.

Seeing a little bit of disarray in his garage is comforting. I was beginning to think he was too good to be true, but Atlas Corrigan is behind on life and behind on laundry like the rest of us.

He unlocks his house and holds the door open for me. It’s smaller than his last one, but it’s more him. And it’s not a cut-and-paste brick building in a subdivision of similar-looking homes. The houses in this neighborhood have character. Each one is vastly different, from the pink two-story house on the corner to the modern boxy glass one at the other end of the street.

Atlas’s house is a bungalow-style home nestled in between two larger homes. When I was here last time, I noted that he somehow got the biggest backyard of the three. Plenty of room for a garden someday…

Atlas enters his security code into his keypad. “It’s nine five nine five,” he says. “If you ever need in.”

“Nine five nine five,” I repeat, noting it’s the same number combination as his phone. He’s a man of commitment. I like it.

His security code isn’t a key to his house, but it feels almost as significant. He places my bag on his couch and then flips on the living room light. My back is to the wall, and I’m standing out of the way, watching him. It’s a good thing he informed me that he liked it when I was watching him at work, because watching Atlas is my favorite pastime. I could live my life as a fly on his wall and be content. “What’s your routine when you get home at night?”