I licked my lips and pressed them together.

“The best,” Alyssa concurred.

I started rolling my lips.

“If things work, I believe he’ll make you very happy, Amelia,” Josie added.

I stopped rolling my lips and clenched my teeth.

“You’re scared,” Alyssa noted.

I looked to her. “Like I said, terrified.”

“No,” she replied gently. “Scared of it working.”

“I—”

“And then collapsing,” she finished.

I swallowed and nodded.

She poured more vodka in our glasses then lifted hers.

I took that cue and lifted mine.

Josie did the same.

“There is nothing guaranteed in life. But the only leaps really worth taking are leaps of faith on love. So look where you leap, beautiful, and happy landing,” Alyssa toasted.

I smiled and raised my glass a smidge. They did too.

Then we all shot them back (even Josie).

Alyssa crashed hers to the bar and demanded loudly, “Now! The long story!”

I slid onto a stool and, on command, shared a long, hopeful story with my new friends.

* * * * *

I sat in my nightie on my bed, knees to my chest, one arm around my calves, phone in my other hand.

It was late. I was tipsy. Josie and Alyssa were gone.

And I thought it was time to call Mickey.

My mother would disagree since it was well past nine. In fact it was well past eleven.

But if I were him, I wouldn’t want to have to go to sleep not knowing.

Maybe he didn’t care that much.

But it seemed he did.

So he should know.

I activated my phone and slid my thumb over the screen. When I found his contact, I hit go.

I put the phone to my ear.

It rang once and then I got sweet and low, “Hey, Amy.”

“Hey,” I replied.

“Your posse hit the road?” he asked.

“Were your ears burning?” I asked back.

“Can take it,” he muttered.

I drew in breath.

“Mickey,” I called.

“I’m here,” he replied.

“I like you,” I whispered.

“Fuck.” It sounded pained.

“Mickey?” I called again, more urgently.

“Here, Amy, and I’m glad, baby, ’cause I hope you get I like you too.”

“So maybe we should go to dinner?” I suggested.

There was no pain in his voice but a smile when he replied, “Yeah, maybe we should.”

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“Okay,” he returned. “You goin’ to bed?”

“I’m in bed.”

There was a pause before he said, “Let you go then, Amy.”

“Okay, Mickey.”

“Later, babe.”

Something about this ending wasn’t right. It was abrupt, not soft and sweet and gentle like it had started.

I felt funny about it but I replied, “Later.”

He hung up.

I took the phone from my ear and stared at it.

God, I hoped he wasn’t one of those thrill of the chase men who caught their prey and lost interest in it.