I laugh and hold my front door open wide, silently inviting him inside.

“Okay,” I say, closing my front door. “But only if we can watch Battle of the Bastards at least three times. Jon Snow might be the only man who can pull me out of my Aleck-Fox-funk.”

Keith’s muscular back tightens and bobs with a laugh as he walks into my kitchen, setting the bottles on the counter by my sink.

“Have you heard from him?”

“No. I left him another message. The last one, actually. I won’t call again. Ball’s in his court,” I say as I reach into my cupboard for wine glasses.

“Okay…” he opens a drawer and pulls out my corkscrew. “Is this a night to remember or a night to forget?” His dark amber eyes search my expression intently, trying to gauge my emotional state, no doubt.

“A night to forget.”

A broad smile curls his lips. “You got it, beautiful.” He pulls out his phone and starts tapping the screen. “We’re going to need to Uber Eats some snacks to this bitch. Lots and lots of snacks, and maybe more booze. We’ll cuddle, drink wine, eat shitty foods, and talk like Cersei Lannister until we pass out.”

For the first time since I woke up this morning, I laugh. Like deep in my chest, genuine laugh. How is Keith Shaw always who I need him to be?

“I love you,” I whisper, a distant pain clear in my tone.

His eyes lift from his phone, glittering with adoration. “And I love you.” He sets the wine bottle down and digs into my gaze deeper. “You’re enough, Winter. Always remember that. You’re more than enough and any man who doesn’t see it isn’t worthy of you.”

I smile, sliding my wine glass in front of him. “Pour it high and deep, my friend. No more Aleck talk. Night to forget, remember? Now, what should we drink to tonight?”

Keith’s grin widens, showing off all his beautiful, bright white teeth. “Every time Tyrion says wine, we drink.”

I snort a laugh. “We’ll be tossed two episodes in…”

He throws his arm over my shoulder. “That’s the idea, Little Dove.”

THIRTY-ONE

WINTER

FOUR WEEKS LATER…

My co-worker drops a stack of papers on my desk and winks. I smile, watching her leave my office as Dottie’s edgy tone brings me back to my phone conversation.

“All I’m saying is, some men could fiddle with my vagina for forty minutes and nothing. Seriously, I could do my nails, balance my checkbook, plan my summer wardrobe before I even get close to coming. But some men, lord have mercy, some men, get me halfway there just by looking at me. That dark stare… Their square, steely posture… Where the hell are those men? I swear, it’s like LA’s well for genuinely sexy men has run completely dry.”

My shoulders shake with a laugh, though I feel her pain entirely. The last time I felt fulfilled was the night of Sondra’s wedding, the night before everything went to shit. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to use Billy Bunny, and he gives off fantastic vibes.