Sleeping with the boss—or in this case, not sleeping—didn’t mean I could call in late to work.

Eric nodded. “I should get going, too.”

Right. He didn’t come into the restaurant on Sundays, but obviously he couldn’t stay in my apartment. He wasn’t my boyfriend. I wasn’t sure what he was, besides my boss, but I wasn’t about to slap a label on our relationship and then sulk because it didn’t live up to my assumptions. When he failed to conform to my expectations. I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes with Eric that Trey had made with me.

Even if I felt things with him that I’d never felt for Trey.

I swallowed. Don’t overthink this. “I’m gonna shower.”

I slithered down the ladder to grab my clothes and whisked myself into the bathroom. Running away. When I got out, Eric was already dressed.

He slipped his phone into his pocket. “All set?”

“You bet,” I said, as perky as I could be on no sleep. No coffee.

We went downstairs together. He didn’t reach for my hand this time. I was annoyed with myself for noticing.

The sun wasn’t up yet. Eric’s Uber ride idled in front of my building, puffing clouds of exhaust into the air. He exchanged male-nods with the driver and opened the door.

“Well.” I stood awkwardly on the curb. Did we kiss? Wave? “See you.”

“Yes.” He enveloped me briefly in a warm, hard hug and then stepped back, holding the door.

I looked at him in confusion.

“Get in,” he said.

I obeyed out of habit, used to following his direction in the kitchen. When he didn’t slide in behind me, I peered up at his silhouette, dark against the streetlight. “Are you . . . Aren’t you coming? To the restaurant?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to cramp Ray’s style.”

“But . . .”

“See you,” he said, like an echo, like a promise, and closed the door. The car pulled away from the curb.

Leaning forward, I addressed the driver. “What do I owe you?”

He met my gaze in the rearview mirror. Why, his expression asked, do I always get the dumb ones? “Forget about it,” he said.

Right. Because Eric had already charged the fare to his card.

I sank back into the unfamiliar luxury of being driven to work. An hour before sunrise, the streets were stirring with cabs and delivery trucks, dog walkers and runners. Another morning, I might have been one of them. This morning was different. I felt different.

I couldn’t wait to talk to Meg.

Not that I could call her now. Unless the twins woke her, she would still be in bed at this hour.

An hour before service I snuck off to the loading dock like a smoker grabbing a cigarette break and checked my phone. There was a wordless reply from Beth and one new comment on my blog. I needed a fresh post. I texted Beth—WTG! ttys?—and called Meg.