I prayed my article tomorrow did its job. Otherwise, I was likely to be stuck covering the baby bump beat with Cam for any kernel of a story.

Trying not to dwell on that unpleasant thought, I pulled up a blank screen and began typing my exclusive story on the fall of a child star turned murderer and the final hours of character actor Jake Mullins. I was halfway through Alexis’s emotional confession—just to the part when she dissed her husband’s acting abilities—when an IM popped up in the corner of my screen.

Hey, babe.

I sucked in a deep breath.

Hi, Black.

How you doin?

Got an hour? But I finally settled on, meh.

Meh? I take it that means not good.

This story, I explained. It’s…complicated.

There was a pause. Then, I’m worried about you.

I felt my throat suddenly clog with emotion. Here I

had blown Black off not once, but twice, and not only was he not mad, not even mentioning my standing him up, but he was genuinely worried about me.

I’m okay.

You sure?

I nodded at the empty living room. Yep.

I’ve missed you.

I’ve missed you, too, I typed, honestly meaning it. Okay, so I knew Black was a fantasy. And our whole relationship consisted of a few words on a screen. But I had missed him. I’d missed having someone who cared enough to ask if I was okay. I’d missed having someone I felt comfortable talking to. Really talking. Honestly. Maybe it was because of the anonymity, the fact that I’d never really expected to meet Black in person, but I felt I could be honest with him in a way I couldn’t with anyone else in my life. I didn’t really know why. And I didn’t want to analyze it. All I knew was, he felt good. And I’d missed it.

Hey…Knock knock, he typed.

I couldn’t help the corner of my mouth tilting up.

Who’s there?

Madame.

Madame who?

Madame foot’s caught in the door.

I laughed out loud.

Good one.

Thanks. Talk tomorrow?

Definitely. And this time, I really meant it.

’Night, Bender. Be good.

’Night, Black.

And then his little “online now” icon disappeared. I left the IM window open, rereading our conversation again to hold on to that comforting feeling just a little longer. And I found myself chuckling out loud a second time over his corny joke.

“What’s that?”

I spun around to find Cal standing behind the sofa, looking over my shoulder, squinting at the conversation on my laptop screen.

I quickly flipped the top down.

“Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like nothing. You chatting with someone?”

“No!” Which in hindsight might have come out a decibel or two higher than convincing.

His other eyebrow lifted.

“Someone special?” Cal teased.