And then, in a blink, it wasn’t.

Sunday night. She wasn’t scheduled to work at Fusion 44 until her afternoon bar shift on Tuesday, but she texted Sly Boy to ask if he wanted her there anyway, seeing as she’d given herself the weekend off. No response from Sly Boy, which wasn’t like him. He had his faults, but ignoring texts was not one of them. She gave it thirty minutes, then tried again. Still nothing.

“Netflix and sweatpants, then,” she said. “No bad thing.” She even had half a bottle of Chardonnay chilling in the fridge. Better and better.

Kitty had just pulled her comfy pants up over her hips when her intercom buzzed. She frowned, wondering who was at her door at this time on a Sunday. Maybe Luke, welcoming her back, although he probably didn’t even know she’d gone.

She pushed the talk button in the little box next to her apartment door. “Hello?”

“Happy birthday, Kitty!”

“Johan?”

“I have something for you.”

Kitty grinned, pushed the door button, heard the lock disengage downstairs. She checked her reflection in the living room mirror (tired, but passable), picked up her skateboard and leaned it against the wall, then opened her apartment door and waited for Johan to appear. He took the stairs, in no hurry at all—casual, leisurely steps, as if the world would wait for him. Kitty heard those steps getting gradually louder as he ascended from the second to the third floor, then he rounded the corner onto her hallway, carrying a box in his hands—a gift, all tied up with a pretty pink bow.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

“That for me?” She pointed at the box, smiling.

“It sure is.”

She stepped back into her apartment, holding the door open for him. He entered, looking around as he crossed the living room and placed her gift on the coffee table. Blue paper, a ribbon to match the bow. It was beautifully wrapped.

“Nice place,” he said. “Larger than it looks from the outside.”

“I use the space well,” Kitty said. “And the windows let in a lot of light—makes it look larger than it really is. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m fine.”

“I have half a bottle of white wine in the fridge. I was just about to—”

“I’m fine. Really.”

Kitty remembered calling Johan from the airport to let him know that she wouldn’t be available for a couple of days. He’d seemed stiff on the phone, not his usual cool self, and that same stiffness was on display now. His shoulders were up, and there was a seriousness in his eyes—his demeanor at odds with the pretty gift he’d brought.

“Okay, well . . .” Kitty gestured at the sofa. “Sit down. Chill.”

He took a seat but didn’t chill, although his shoulders dropped a couple of inches and he almost smiled.

“Everything okay?” Kitty asked.