It takes a few seconds for what he says to register. When it does, I don’t smile. I swallow the lump in my throat, hoping he can’t see my internal reaction to that. It’s not the first time he’s mentioned I saved him back then, but every time he says it, I want to argue with him. I didn’t save him. All I did was fall in love with him.

I can see why I fell in love with him. What owner is more concerned about the situation of the person vandalizing their business than they are with the actual damage being done? “Considerate Atlas,” I whisper.

“What was that?” he says.

I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I slide a hand over the heat moving across my neck. “Nothing.”

Atlas clears his throat, leaning forward. A subtle smile materializes. “Back to your journal,” he says. “I wondered if you knew I could see into your bedroom window back then, because after that night, you left that light on a hell of a lot.”

I laugh, glad he’s lightening the mood. “You didn’t have a television. I wanted to give you something to watch.”

He groans. “Lily, you have to let me read the rest.”

“No.”

“You locked me in a closet today. Letting me read your journals would be a good way to apologize for that.”

“I thought you weren’t offended.”

“Maybe it’s a delayed offense.” He begins to nod slowly. “Yeah… starting to feel it now. I’m really offended.”

I’m laughing when Emmy begins to work up a cry across the hall. I sigh because I don’t want to hang up, but I’m also not the mom who can let her child cry it out. “Emmy’s waking up. I have to go. But you owe me a date.”

“Name the time,” he says.

“I’m off on Sundays, so a Saturday night might be good.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” he says. “But we’re going slow.”

“I mean… that’s pretty slow if we’re counting from the first day we met. That puts a lot of years between meeting you and going on a first date with you.”

“Six o’clock?”

I smile. “Six is perfect.”

As soon as I say that, Atlas squeezes his eyes shut for two seconds. “Wait. I can’t tomorrow. Shit. We’re hosting an event; they need me at the restaurant. Sunday?”

“I have Emmy Sunday. I’d rather wait before bringing her around you.”

“I get that,” Atlas says. “Next Saturday?”

“That’ll give me time to line up someone to watch her.”

Atlas grins. “It’s a date, then.” He stands up and begins walking through his bedroom. “You’re off on Sundays, right? Can I call you this Sunday?”

“When you say ‘call,’ do you mean video chat? I want to be prepared this time.”

“You couldn’t be unprepared if you tried,” he says. “And yes, it’ll be a FaceTime. Why would I waste time with a phone call when I can look at you?”

I like this flirty side of Atlas. I have to bite my bottom lip for two seconds in order to hold back my grin. “Goodnight, Atlas.”