As she turned around, she was still using the spatula as a microphone, her hair tied into a messy bun, a bra under her white tank top. I could tell she was a few beers deep, letting me know we’d had similar days.

“My two favorite peeps,” she said, turning down the volume and then throwing one arm around me and the other over Caleb. “Super happy you agreed to dinner.”

“I’m sorry to crash girls’ night.”

“No biggie,” she replied and backed up, seeing the two large boxes in Caleb’s hands that were double the size we normally brought home. “Did you buy dessert for the whole building?”

I laughed, as I’d pretty much said the same thing to him when he placed his order. “Where’s the booze? I need to catch up.”

She grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed them to us in exchange for the cookies, lifting the top to peer inside. “Oh, yes, that’s a whole lot of love right there.” She frowned as she glanced up. “My poor ass.”

“And mine too,” I replied.

She set the boxes on the counter. “Dinner will be ready in five. Now, get out before your bad-cooking juju makes everything burn.”

Caleb was chuckling as I circled his hand.

“I’m going to show him around.”

“Don’t stop for a quickie, or the food will be cold by the time you’re done.”

He smiled at me, our thoughts aligning.

“That man is only capable of doing one thing quick, and that’s the speed in which he drives.”

She looked at us from over her shoulder. “Caleb, send me some of your single friends who can drive that fast.”

I was still giggling when I brought him farther into our tiny apartment. “This is it.” I nodded toward the small high-top with four stools and the couch and coffee table. “Dining and living room all in one, and through here”—I started walking toward the hallway—“are our bedrooms and the bathroom.”

“This place is great,” he said from behind me, the walkway too narrow for both of us to fit.

I stayed in the entrance of my bedroom while he went into the intimate space, looking at my framed photos. Some were from the holidays Emily and I had spent together—one from our trip to Cancun and another from Chicago, where we’d gone to a concert. As he held the one of my immediate family, taken when David had still been alive, I said the names of each of my siblings out loud, so he knew who everyone was.

Once he placed the picture back, he lifted the notepad I had on my nightstand, leaving it closed. “Diary?”

I smiled. “No, it’s where I keep all of my travel inspiration. Someone gave that to me as a gift.”