We walk out of the door, and the door clicks locked behind us. I look down, seeing my hand hanging right next to his, but he hasn’t tried to grab it once. When we step into the elevator, he presses the button that takes us down to the underground garage, and I follow him to his truck. The only sound is the click of my heels echoing. He opens the truck door for me and helps me in, and his touch lingers long after he closes the door and walks over to the driver’s side. He gets in and makes his way to my house, pulling up to the front door. I spot the doorman running over to help me out. “Thank you for dinner.” I look at him, and he puts his head back on the headrest.

“Thank you for not killing the fish.” He smiles at me, and I want to lean over and kiss him, but I just shake my head and laugh.

“Night, Markos,” I say, grabbing the handle, but the door is pulled open by the bellman.

“Welcome home, Ms. Paradis,” he says, holding out his hand to help me step out.

“Thank you,” I say and walk into the building, never once turning back to look at him. I don’t have to turn around because I can feel his stare. When I finally walk into the elevator and turn around, my eyes land on his, and when I raise my hand up to wave goodbye, the door closes, and I let out a sigh. I unlock the door, slipping off the damp jacket and hanging it up. I hear my phone ringing somewhere in the house and realize I didn’t even grab it when I left in a huff. I run to my bedroom, seeing Karrie’s face fill the screen.

“Allo,” I say out of breath.

“Where the fuck have you been? We’ve been calling you for three hours,” she snaps.

“I left and forgot my phone.” Sitting on the bed and taking off the shoes, I walk into my closet and put them away on the shelf.

“You never leave the house without your phone.” And I know she’s stopped what she is doing to tell me this. I have actually been at a diner and left to go home and get my phone.

“I didn’t even know I didn’t have it,” I tell her, taking off his shorts and folding them.

“But you eat with it at the side of your plate,” she reminds me, and I roll my eyes. “When you shower, it’s on the sink. When you sleep, you usually either put it on the side table or under the pillow next to you.”

“Wow, you sound like a stalker.” I try to change the subject “Why have you been calling me?”