Now here is the question, can one kiss actually give you flutters?

I press send on the blog post at the same time that the doorbell rings. Getting up, I walk to the door and open it to see the doorman with a huge basket in his hands. “This was just delivered for you,” he says, and I reach out to take the cellophane-wrapped basket.

“Thank you so much.” I smile at him and carry it to the kitchen. A red bow on the handle of the basket but no card. I untie the bow and open the cellophane and see that it’s a French coffee press. I pick up the baby blue coffeemaker and find packs of coffee next to it—all gourmet and all French. There, tucked into the packs of coffee, is a white card. I grab it and open it, and I have to sit down.

We had dinner, so we should have breakfast.

My number hasn’t changed.

Use it.

Private Mark

Oh. My. God. This man is too much. I take a picture of the basket and send it to Karrie who answers me back right away.

Karrie: I can’t do coffee today, but I can do it tomorrow.

Me: That isn’t for you; that is what M just sent me.

She doesn’t answer me by text. Instead, she calls me. “What do you mean he sent it to you?”

“Exactly that,” I tell her and repeat what he wrote on the card.

“Are you going to call him?” she asks.

“No, I’m not going to call him,” I say, blowing out my breath. “What good is it going to do if I call him?”

“You can have sex with him, and then you can know if it’s something or just an itch you need to scratch.”

I look up. “That is the best thing you’ve said in a while. I should just call him, fuck him, then forget him.” I tap my chin. “I don’t know why I just didn’t do that from the beginning. It’s been two years.”

“Or maybe you haven’t done it because you know you like him,” she says, and I hear the car door slam.

“Karrie, how can one person have the best idea one minute and then fall flat in the next?” I ask her. “Seriously, I’m not a woman who commits. It’s just not me.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” she says, and I’m switched to Bluetooth. “Have you not pursued him because of this thing?”

“There is no thing,” I say, my voice getting loud. “Now I have to let you go so I can call him and go have sex with him.”

“Notice you didn’t say fuck him,” she says, laughing. I hang up on her, but she gets the last laugh when she texts me

Karrie: You hate when I’m right.