He smiles at me, and his hand goes to my hip now, and he leans in. “Anytime, Vivienne,” he says softly, and I’m waiting for his kiss on my cheek, but it never comes. Just the tingle from his beard. “Let me know about Saturday,” he says, and then I nod and walk into my lobby, never once turning back. Even when I get in the elevator, I wait for the door to close before I turn around and hold the railing in the elevator while my breathing returns to normal. I walk into my house, kicking off my wet shoes at the door and then walking to my bedroom where I hang up my jacket and undress. Walking to the closet in the spare room where I keep all my formal gowns, I knew the minute he said anything to me exactly what I wanted to wear. The gown is ready to be worn. I close the door and walk back to my bedroom, my phone buzzing from my purse. Taking it out, I see it’s from Mark, and my heartbeat speeds up just a touch. I wonder when it’s going to stop acting like this. It’s been over two months, and still, it speeds up every single time I see his name.

Markos: Just made it home. I wanted to come up and say good night to Elsa, but it was late, and she was probably sleeping. Let me know about Saturday.

I contemplate dragging it out, but my head doesn’t connect to my fingers that are typing faster than I can read.

Me: I’m free. Send me details.

The blue text shows up as delivered right away, then I put my phone on the side table and close my eyes. The room spinning just a touch or a lot. I don’t bother undressing, I just lie on top of the bed and then curl up, and when I hear ringing the next day, my eye opens ever so slowly, and I see the sun blaring into the room. I don’t move, and the ringing stops and then starts up again right away. I slowly get up and my head pounds, so I close one eye and see that my phone is showing me Karrie’s picture.

“Are you dead?” I slowly get off my bed and walk to the bathroom.

“Are you dead?” she asks me. “I’ve been calling you since eight.”

“A.m.?” I ask her, sitting on the toilet and kicking off my pants. “When did you become a farmer?”

She laughs, and I hear water running in the background. “Please, I’ve already made breakfast and put lunch in the oven.”

“What time is it?” I ask, confused and then put her on speakerphone while I wash my hands and face and then brush the cotton balls from my mouth.

“Almost noon,” she says. “So how was last night?”