He nodded, and we went to the curb, waiting for a break in the passing traffic, and then crossed the street side by side like when we were in college, doing every damn thing together.

CHAPTER TWO

The place was called the Ground Floor, and the weeknight crowd was light. Most of the students from the state university in town went to a coffee shop near campus, one run by some recent graduates. The bell dinged over our heads as we pushed through the glass door, and Blake stepped aside, allowing an elderly couple to pass. They thanked him, and Blake gave them his brightest smile.

“You two go straight home now,” he said. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“We’re too old for that,” the woman said, placing her hand on Blake’s arm.

“I doubt that,” he said, leaning in a little.

And they all laughed.

The Ground Floor catered to a professional crowd, one that came in early in the morning and during the afternoon and then drifted away when the sun went down. But I stopped in there from time to time since it was across the street from the Pig, and it seemed neighborly to support each other’s businesses. And I also knew the Ground Floor because my small PR firm had helped the shop with a branding campaign two years earlier. One of our designers had redone their logo, giving it a more modern look, and while I hadn’t worked on that job, I figured anyone who gave business to our slowly growing outfit deserved to receive my coffee patronage.

At the counter I ordered an Americano while Blake opted for a blend, and we settled in at an isolated table in a corner of the room. Al Stewart’s “Time Passages” played overhead, and the steamer hissed as it blew froth behind the counter. I loved the rich smell of the roasting beans, the lingering scent of the pastries baked that morning. I pulled out my phone and texted Amanda, telling her I was delayed but wouldn’t be long. It took a lot of willpower, but I ignored the flurry of notifications that came up, real-time responses to my beer photo from the Pig and a post from earlier in the day, a shot I’d taken of Henry being bathed.

Be there soon.

And as soon as I hit SEND and heard the swooshing sound of the text heading her way, I wished I’d just told Blake no, that I’d stuck to just going to lunch with him.

But he’d used the word “emergency.” Why?

I had my suspicions. When we’d met in college, we quickly settled into roles. Blake was wild, and I was serious. I studied too much, and Blake would get me to loosen up.