No time to do anything about it now. The scent of the candles would linger even if I blew them out, and he had to hear the music through the door.

I rushed to the door, did the peephole thing and opened it, coming to stand at its edge.

“Hey,” I greeted, trying to sound cool. “You’re back.”

His eyes dropped to my chest and I lost all semblance of cool. There wasn’t much to lose but what little existed was quickly history.

Then his eyes came back to mine. “You’re a Cubs fan?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered then declared, “They’re the best team in the history of baseball.”

He walked in and I closed the door. Through this neither of us lost eye contact. This was because he was smiling at me like I was unbelievably amusing and this was because I was staring at him because he was smiling at me like I was unbelievably amusing.

He came to a halt two feet in, and I turned from the closed door, which meant I was about a foot away from him.

“They haven’t won a pennant since 1908,” he informed me.

“So?” I asked.

“That fact in and of itself means they aren’t the best team in the history of baseball.”

This was true. It was also false.

“Okay, I amend my statement. They’re the coolest, most interesting team in the history of baseball. They have the best fans because their fans don’t care if they win or lose. We’re die-hard and always will be.”

His eyes warmed like they always did before he’d smile at me, and I felt my knees wobble.

“Can’t argue with that,” he muttered.

I pressed my lips together and hoped I didn’t get lightheaded.

“Colorado bleeds black and purple in spring and summer, though, Mara. Careful where you wear that tee,” he warned.

“I like the Rockies too,” I replied.

He shook his head, turning toward my hall.

“Can’t swing both ways,” he said as he moved into the hall.

I watched him move. I liked watching him move. I liked it more as I watched him move down my hallway toward my bedroom. I knew I liked it so much I would fantasize the impossible fantasy that such a vision would happen so often it would become commonplace.

I wondered if I could call out to him that I really needed to run an errand. Like say, take care of an old relative who needed me to get her out of her wheelchair and into her bed. Then read her a bedtime story because she was blind. Something I couldn’t get out of that would make me seem kind and loving but would really be an excuse to escape him.

Then I realized that would be rude and I followed him.