This time, though, I need to hear her voice. It’s just been too long. She picks up on the third ring. “Allo.” My heart speeds up just a touch when she answers, and then the smile just appears. I could be having the shittiest day, and hearing her voice makes everything better.

“Hey,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee. “Long time.”

“I know,” she says, and then I hear her moan as she stretches. “What’s up?”

“Were you sleeping?” I ask, looking over and seeing that it’s almost ten.

“No, just lounging in bed. It looks dark outside,” she says, and I picture her in bed and wonder if she still sleeps naked or if she wears something in the winter.

“It is. It was softly snowing before but melting the minute it touched the ground,” I say, looking out of the window at the gray sky. “Are you coming to the game tonight?”

“That is the plan,” she says. “Although I’m obsessed with Netflix these days, it’s time to get out,” she says, and I want to know everything.

“How about dinner after the game?” I ask her, and she doesn’t say anything. “I know that the guys usually get together and have dinner, but …”

“Oh, I wasn’t going anywhere after the game,” she says.

“I know of a small little place that closes at ten but will stay open if I call them,” I tell her, and if I can’t find a place, I’ll call in a couple of favors.

“Just the two of us?” she asks softly.

“I mean, if you aren’t comfortable with that …” I say. My stomach drops, and I put the cup of coffee down on the counter and close my eyes.

“No,” she says right away. “It’s fine. It’ll be good. We can catch up.”

I try not to make it a big deal.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” she says. “I’ve been cooking lately, so having someone else cook for me sounds like heaven.”

“Perfect. I’ll send you the address, and you can meet me there,” I say, and then I close my eyes. “Or you can wait for me, but …”

“But people will see,” she says, laughing. “I get it. I can meet you there.”

“Great,” I say, hating that I can’t go with her but knowing that it will raise too many questions. I don’t want to freak her out and push her further away with the pressure.

“See you then, Mark,” she says, and I can picture her saying it with a smile, but I’m hating that she hasn’t called me Markos. “And break a leg.”

“Let’s not put that thought into the universe.” I laugh at her, and now she laughs.

“See you later,” I say and disconnect and text my guy over at the Italian restaurant I want to take her to.