“What about us?” I ask. I won’t mention the kiss unless he does.

Lucas uncrosses his legs. “We started on the wrong foot a month ago. Mostly my fault, I’ll admit that.” He gives me a cheeky smile that puts a warm fuzz in my belly. “Even if you did cut in front of me at the train station, and stole the last donut at Starbucks, and snatched the corner office of my dreams from under my nose all in less than an hour—”

“If you’re still going on about—”

Lucas raises his hands placatingly. “I’m not. I just wanted to contextualize my reaction of that day. I was stressed about the office situation, and you’d rubbed my feathers the wrong way, so I snapped. Not something I do often, for the record. And I should’ve apologized a long time ago, but then the moving truck incident happened, and the bet, and things kept escalating for no reason. And I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being at odds with you all the time. So I came here this morning to say sorry, and to ask if we can leave the sworn enemies phase behind us and please be friends.”

Friends?

I’m not sure why, but the word irks me to no end. Maybe because Dr. Smooch is conveniently glossing over the fact that, not two days ago, he was eating my face in the elevator. Are we really going to pretend that kiss never happened?

“Why apologize now?” I ask.

“Tomorrow is an important day. I want you to trust me before I bring Tegan to meet her father.”

If I were a braver woman, I’d ask him if that’s the only reason for the ceasefire. But I’m not, so I go along with the let’s-pretend-our-tongues-were-never-in-each-other’s-mouths flow.

I finish my second, unplanned breakfast and lick my fingers, not missing the way Lucas’ eyes follow my every movement. “And was the donut a bribe?”

He smiles. “Did it work?”

I clean my hands with a paper napkin and lean my elbows on the desk. “All right, Doctor.” I extend my hand, saying, “Friends?”

“Friends.”

We shake on it, his eyes bluer than ever.

The contact and the eye lock are too much, so I break both by grabbing some random documents from the desk and tapping them on the wooden surface as if I needed to tidy the stack. “If there’s nothing else…? I have a busy morning.”

Lucas scratches the back of his head. “Actually, I need to ask you a favor for tomorrow.”

The man is driving my daughter to Boston; I can hardly refuse. “Sure, what is it?”