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“It’s fine. We both agreed it was horrible and that it never should have happened.”

“Damn right! What the fuck is wrong with this guy? And those women. Have they no shame?” She stomped out of the room and came back with a suitcase of her own. “That settles it. I’m coming with you.”

“You can’t just invite yourself to the weekend,” I cried.

“Yes, I can. I’m an important part of the team. I may not have a doctorate like some of y’all, but I keep those undergrads in line.” She held her phone to her ear. “Pete, when are you leaving for Como?”

My mouth dropped open and she held her finger to my lips. “Well, swing by here first. I’m coming with you.”

I could hear Pete protesting on the other end of the line.

“Sabrina, you don’t have to do this.”

She pressed the phone to her chest. “D, you asked me to stop you from making stupid decisions. How can I do that if I’m not with you?”

The sound of car wheels on gravel caught my attention, and I peeked out my window to see Francine in front of the apartment.

“Levi’s here!” I hated how giddy I sounded.

I ran to the door before Sabrina could play the role of apartment bouncer, throwing it open to Levi’s surprised face. With his Ray-Ban’s on, his rumpled hair, the five-o’clock shadow he was sporting on his square jaw, he looked as edible as the cookies he was holding in his hand. I know that this new bad-boy look of his probably had something to do with him being grounded, but it was really working for me. When we were younger he was always the clean-cut, midwestern golden boy, but now . . . I could imagine him bending me over a Harley Davidson and making me call him “Daddy”.

“Hey.” He flashed his dazzling smile at me.

“Hi,” I said and wondered when Marilyn Monroe had taken possession of my vocal cords. He handed me the container of cookies as he came in, and I don’t know what smelled better, the freshly baked cookies or him. I closed my eyes, breathing in the cologne that I’d bought for him all those years ago.

The one that he thought Ashleigh had gotten it for him, I reminded myself. Peeling back the blue cover of the glass food container, I noted, “You must be the only unmarried fighter pilot with a collection of Tupperware.”

“That’s a very sexist thing to say.” Levi pretended to be affronted. “I’m sure Frankie Fiero has plenty of Tupperware stashed away. He likes to cook too, you know.”

“No, I didn’t. I was unfortunately prevented from checking out his Tupperware collection by on overbearing pilot with a big brother complex.”

“Can’t imagine who that was.” He winked as I pinched a biscotti between my fingers and brought it to my mouth. I closed my eyes and moaned. Damn, but that was good—salty, sweet, and a hint of lemon and something else. When I opened my eyes back up, he was staring at me. You know in books when they say that his eyes ‘darkened’? Well, it was totally like that. He was all pupils and I was tiny sparks everywhere.

“Uh-h.” There was some aggressive throat clearing and we both turned to face Sabrina with her hands on her hips. “We’re waiting for Pete. He should be here shortly.”

“You’re coming?” Levi asked.

“Got a problem with that, Simba?”

“Not at all.” He shrugged. “But I don’t have much room in the car.”

“We’ll follow you. I’ll drive D in Pete’s car, and you boys can get to know each other in your jalopy.”

“Sabrina . . .” I started to warn her not to say anything bad about the car. She didn’t know the sentimental value it had.

“Great.” Levi smiled, and either he was really practiced at hiding his disappointment or he was relieved to not spend the next three hours with me.

Sabrina dragged me into her bedroom to help her pack. When she spun around, intent on scolding me, I held out the cookies. “Biscotti?”

“Don’t tell me he made them.” She took one anyway and bit into it. “Is he for real? How are these so good?”

“I know, right?” I handed her the container. “Take them before I eat them all.”

She waved her finger at me. “Nuh-uh, don’t change the subject.”

“How am I changing the subject? We’ve been talking about cookies since we came in here.”

She crossed her arms and gave me her best disappointed second-grade-teacher look. “The subject was how you two were looking at each other back there.”