I pause, considering. Patrick has a point. How many people would do anything to have the love of their life back, even if it’s on a cloudy, stormy afternoon? It might not always be sunshine and rainbows or full of joy, but it would still be a day spent with each other. Stomping in puddles. Laughing in the rain.

What did I tell Henry—JD—early on?

Even if the bad days make little sense right now, they make the happy days appear so much brighter and better.

We can share an umbrella.

The last week hasn’t made any sense, full of numerous bad days and uncertain hours. I can’t figure out what I want. What I don’t want. Do I want to welcome the rainstorm or stay inside? Dry and alone. Without him.

My toes wiggle in my shoes, wishing I had on rain boots.

I think I want to welcome the storm.

The question is, does Henry?

“It appears I’ve befuddled you,” Patrick says.

“You and Jack both make really good points. You’re great friends.”

“Henry, ignoring his recent fuck up, is a great guy, too. Shit, I forgot to give you this.” He pulls a small piece of paper out of his pocket. I unfold the note, finding more of Henry’s handwriting.

We might have escaped the room that night,

but you haven’t escaped my mind.

Speaking of cheesiness, I have something tasty for you.

“Tasty? Is food involved?” I look up, and Patrick is gone. Neil is standing in his place.

“I come in peace,” he starts. “Before I start my mission, I want to apologize. My joke the other night was inappropriate. Out of line. I have a tendency to be crass with no filter. It wasn’t intentional. I like you, Emma. You’re good for Henry. I know I had a hand in the sadness you’re experiencing, and I’m deeply sorry.”

“You weren’t the one who touched another woman, Neil. You were trying to be funny.”

“I know, but it wasn’t. I didn’t help the situation and I should’ve kept my mouth closed. I want you to know that.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“My task isn’t as cool as the others. Ready for a short walk?”

I slurp the final sip of my coffee down and toss it into the trash can. “I’m running out of places where you could be taking me.”

“It’s not far. I brought reinforcements for our journey.” He pulls out a family size bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and a box of Zebra Cakes from behind his back. “Hungry?”

“I’m starving,” I chuckle. “Lead the way… Wait. What’s your code name? And what was Patrick’s? LL?”

“LL. Lola Lover.”

“He told me they aren’t dating!”

“They aren’t.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, his introspective behavior makes a lot more sense.

“Mine is BJT.”

“Blow Job Taker?”