I walk into my apartment and see the bag that I brought back from Karrie’s when I dumped it off yesterday and raced to Mark’s. I slip off my shoes, and I’m about to walk to the kitchen to make myself another coffee when I hear a knock on the door. I smile to myself and walk to the door. “You just can’t get enough of me, can you?” I say when I open the door. My smile disappears when I see that it’s Matthew standing there looking at me weird. “Hey.”

“Didn’t you wear that yesterday?” He points at me, and I look down at my outfit. Luckily, the sash in the front tied in a bow hides the fact that two buttons are missing.

“Um, yeah,” I say. “I just got dressed, and I was lazy, so I put the same thing on.”

“You aren’t wearing makeup either,” he points out, smiling as he walks in.

“Are you Sherlock Holmes now?” I say, closing the door.

“You had sex,” he says out loud like it’s a big aha moment.

I roll my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“You forgot this.” He holds up my backpack that has my laptop in it. “We called you all day yesterday, but you didn’t answer.”

“I was taking a break from the phone.” I reach for the bag, and he throws his head back and laughs. “It’s Sunday. It’s a holy day.”

“Holy day,” he repeats. “This from the woman who thought the church would burn down if she walked into it when we baptized the kids.”

“I was just being cautious,” I tell him, folding my arms over my chest.

“You kept looking back every time you heard a noise.” He laughs. “And you practically ran out of there at the end.”

“This is fun,” I say sarcastically. “This trip down memory lane,” I say, grabbing the bag. “Now, if you’re done, I need a coffee.”

“Always a pleasure,” he says, walking to me and kissing my cheek. I met him through Karrie, but he is the closest thing I have to a brother, and no matter how many times I get on his nerves, or make the vein in his head pulse, he has my back with no questions asked. “The kids loved spending time with you.”

“Obviously,” I say to him, smiling. “I’m pretty fucking awesome.” He nods his head at me, walking to the door.

“Call Karrie, would you? She almost called the NYPD to make a wellness check,” he says, walking out.