I hold up a hand. “I told you it was a onetime thing. I won’t do it again.”

“She’s your kryptonite, man.”

I can’t argue with that. “Maybe, but I learned my lesson. I don’t need a babysitter. Go home.”

He looks annoyingly reluctant, but he picks up his water, phone, and keys and is out the door without another warning. At least not a verbal one. His eyes laser-communicate “Don’t even think about it” as he leaves out the back.

I grab a bottle of glass cleaner and start wiping smudges off the cases. My phone dings in my back pocket.

DUKE: Nothing good can come of it.

I roll my eyes, tapping out a middle finger emoji and silencing my phone.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m repeating the mantra as my ex, Emily, shoves the door to the shop open, her laughter tinkling and floating back over the crowd of just-out-of-college guys she took on a bachelor party tour of Black Rocks this afternoon. They follow her like puppies, their eyes tracking her long, tanned limbs and swaying ponytail as she leads them to the counter. And to me.

“Heyyyy, Micah. Can we get some of those free ice cream coupons? These guys worked their asses off for me today.”

I hate when she does this. Always leaving me to be the boring rules guy.

“Sure, just a quick survey about what a great job Emily did today, and I’ll go grab the coupons.”

They roll their eyes but take the pens while I pretend to “look” for the stack of coupons, giving them time to actually fill out the survey.

“Oops. All out up here. Be right back.”

I make my way to the back office, taking a drink of my water and checking my phone before pushing the door back into the store open and almost hitting Em.

“Sorry about that,” she says. “I always feel super awkward asking for the surveys.”

“I don’t know why,” I say, letting myself sound annoyed. “You always do a fine job.”

She meets my tone with doe-eyed innocence. Always. “You’re just so much better at asking.”

“Whatever. We need to get back out there. Dani doesn’t like us to leave customers unsupervised.”

She grins. “Oh, Micah, such a good boy.”

Yeah. That’s me. I return to the desk, and the guys pass over their surveys, mostly filled out, in return for their coupons. Emily gives each and every one her winningest smile and ends up with two stalling, clearly waiting to ask her out. I feel my teeth click together. “I’ll let you take care of that,” I say, walking toward a display of T-shirts and pulling them out to refold. I wish I had my earbuds or had turned the radio louder after Duke left. I don’t want to hear this.