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“What do you want to get me?”

Locke thinks about it. “I don’t know yet.”

“That makes the shopping part a little difficult.”

“I want to choose it.”

I smile before I can help it. “I’d like that. But you don’t have to spend your money on me.”

“I know.” His answer comes without hesitation. “I want to.”

He has no idea he’s already the best thing that’s happened to me in years.

My phone buzzes again.

Are you awake? We’re bringing breakfast. Do not argue.

A second message appears.

That means you, Rachel.

I read both aloud.

“Shannon knows you,” Locke says.

“Unfortunately.” I push back the covers and sit up. “Come on. If Shannon says she’s bringing breakfast, we probably have about ten minutes until she’s pounding on the door.”

Locke gets up with me. We pull on some clean clothes and head downstairs.

I go straight for the coffeemaker. Before I reach the cabinet, Locke opens it, takes down my usual mug, and sets it beside the machine.

“You remembered.”

“You use it every morning.”

The smallness of the gesture is part of what gets me. He noticed and remembered.

“Thank you.”

Locke gives me a puzzled look, as if this is hardly worth thanking him for. Before I can say anything else, there’s a knock at the front door. My shoulders tighten on instinct, but the reaction is gone almost as soon as it comes.

“That’ll be Shannon,” I say.

When I open the door, Shannon comes in first, carrying a bag. Tom follows with another. Blair has her ubiquitous legal pad tucked under one arm, Janet comes in with a foil-covered casserole dish balanced in both hands, and Laura follows carrying a bottle of pumpkin-spice creamer.

“You brought creamer to my house?”

“I’ve had your coffee.”

“There’s half-and-half in the refrigerator.”

Laura gives me a look. “That’s not the same thing.”

Shannon points at the bottle. “You brought your own again?”

“Civilization requires standards.”

Blair takes off her coat. “How many bottles are in your refrigerator right now?”