He came back. “Shit, got a patch job that’s come through. After work, gotta go see to that.”

“See?” I asked. “This is not our night.”

“Right,” he replied. “Touch base with you later.”

“Okay, Mickey.”

“Keep your chin up ’til then.”

“I will, honey.”

“Later, babe.”

“’Bye, Mickey.”

We hung up and I pulled myself together, getting some hummus and tortilla chips and camping out in front of the TV not watching Cocoon (or The Notebook or Fried Green Tomatoes). Instead I watched Rock of Ages and did it hoping Cillian didn’t see it because emulating Tom Cruise from that movie might make Mickey’s head explode.

I was channel surfing after the movie when I jerked and lifted up, looking over the back of the couch toward the door because the bell rang.

I didn’t have the best view but I still could see it was Mickey through the stained glass.

“Touching base,” I mumbled to myself, liking that I had a guy who would do that in person after I got really bad news that ruined my day.

I rolled off the couch, went to the door, unlocked it and tipped my head back.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey back,” he replied then pushed a handled, glossy bag my way. “That the right shit?”

I stared at him, brows drawn, before I took the bag, opened it and saw inside a bottle of my cleanser and another of my moisturizer. These were rattling around with a toothbrush in its plastic.

I didn’t use stuff you got at Walgreen’s.

My stuff was expensive and you got it direct from the salon or at the mall.

He’d gone to the mall for me.

Slowly, I lifted my head and, not knowing what else to say, said, “Yes.”

“Right,” he replied, pushed past me, walked to the kitchen, nabbed my purse, snatched up my phone then came right back to me. “Keys in your purse?”

“Yes,” I repeated.

He handed my purse to me. “Get ’em out.”

“Mickey, I—”

“Let’s go, babe. I’m starved and Ash has dinner ready.” My mouth dropped open as his eyes moved to the TV. “Fuck. That’s on. I’ll get that.”

He then sauntered to the TV, turned it off and then turned off all the lamps I had lit.

After that, he came back to me.

“Keys?” he prompted.

“Are you saying…am I…am I spending the night at your place?” I stammered.