“Will you ever let me live that down?”

“Probably not.”

I sighed. “Well, I can’t even be mad after the ‘I’ve been seeing a new guy and was never this happy’ comment.”

“Michael said that, not me,” he said. Then blanched. “I mean, I would have said that if we’d talked about it, but apparently Michael beat me to it and whatshisname never asked me after that.”

I snorted. “Good save.”

“I thought so.”

“So I was thinking maybe you could come over on Thursday night for dinner to meet Angus, if you wanted to, because we have the ace support meeting on Friday and he’ll be busy all weekend with his ‘couple with benefits,’ if you follow my meaning. But if you’re hammered with work, we could leave it until Sunday or even next week if you want.”

He chuckled. “I thought you said Angus only met his couple every other weekend?”

“You’re not the only one getting hammered, apparently. If the glazed-over look Angus wore yesterday was any indication.”

He put his hand to his mouth and bit back a laugh. “Apparently not.”

“But anyway, dinner on Thursday at my place is still on offer, if you want. Merry wants to be there as well, just so you know. We can order in and eat ice cream from the comfort of our couch in our PJs and messy hair, and there will be no velociraptor-colony people or Leprechauns with hash edibles.” I put my hand to my heart. “I promise.”

Hennessy cracked up laughing. “Sounds good.” Then he grabbed his messenger bag. I wasn’t even aware we were at his stop already, but he leaned in and gave me a quick kiss. “I’ll call you tonight,” he said, then dashed off the bus.

I blushed so hard I feared the capillary damage would be permanent, but I also grinned so hard my cheeks hurt.

Mrs Petrovski clapped and wiggled in her seat before she leapt up and shooed me over so she could sit next to me. “Tell us everything! You two are so cute!”

I looked around at the other passengers. The Soup Crew were smiling and nodding at me, and even a few random people were smiling along with the others. This was getting ridiculous, but the inner carnival in my insides was now a full-on Mardi Gras and my excitement bubbled out in the form of a butt-wiggle with my fists to my face, eyes peering over my knuckles like an anime character. “He’s the most amazing guy in the history of the world and we had the best date ever—I mean, evvvvvver—he took me to an art gallery exhibit and the botanical gardens, and then he took me to a Hungarian restaurant—”

“Itthon’s?” Ian asked. “On Marlborough Street?”

I nodded. “Yep.”

He groaned. “Oh, that is smooth.”

“I know, right? Smooth doesn’t even begin to describe it.”