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“If you insist on leaving, at least let me take you out to brunch. Your treat since you trashed my guest house.”

He laughs quietly and runs a hand over the top of his head, lightly scratching at his buzzed hair. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my best friend,” he adds, eyes sad and teary.

“You’ll never get rid of me, no matter how many lamps you break,” I promise.

Everything I’d been through in my childhood, Ezra and his family stuck with me through it all. I owe it to him to help him when he’s in need, but the truth is that I’d help him regardless of any unspoken debt. I’d do anything for my friends.

I sit next to Petunia on the couch, watching a cooking show, of all things. I’m not sure what possessed me to turn it on, but here I am, a Manhattan in hand, a small plate of meats and cheeses on the coffee table in front of me, learning about how to make pasta from scratch.

After I helped Ezra pack and clean up the guest house, we went to brunch and talked through his options. He agreed that a break would be good for his mental health. In the meantime, he’s going to talk to a therapist and find new coaches.

Then I dropped him off at the airport and he promised to keep in touch. The thought of him alone in Boston is unsettling, but if he needs time to clear his head, then he should take it. Lord only knows how much of a hermit I became immediately after my divorce. I played like shit my first few games after that.

I hear the sound of jingling keys and the front door opening and closing. Gus comes out of his hiding spot behind the TV and sprints to the door. I roll my eyes. Bastard. He won’t hang out with me, but he loves my new roommate.

“Hello, baby,” Hazel coos in a high-pitched voice.

I smile and look down at Petunia, petting the top of her head. She opens one eye in my direction. Can you believe this? she seems to be asking.

“Did you miss me?” Hazel asks Gus.

He gives a long meow and I roll my eyes. “So much for loyalty, Gus,” I call out.

Hazel laughs and walks into the living room. She’s still wearing the work uniform, but her visor is off and her hair is pinned half-up in a messy little bun, a few curls still lingering around her face.

“Whoever told you cats are loyal lied to you. Big time.” Her eyes move to the TV. “Oh, this is my favorite show!”

She drops her water bottle in the cupholder on the arm of the couch and sits down next to me.

Right.

Next.

To.

Me.

The soft couch dips and tips her so close to me that our thighs touch. So do our elbows. I stay as still as possible, unsure what to do.

She takes a deep breath and I sneak a glance her way. Her cheeks are red, bringing out the freckles I’ve noticed before. I don’t think she expected the couch to smush us so close together.

I clear my throat and lean forward, grabbing the snack plate. “Charcuterie?” I ask, offering her the plate.

She smiles and scoots away from me. Just enough so that we’re no longer touching, but not far enough away that I can’t still feel her body heat.

“I don’t eat dairy,” she says. “But I’ll take some pepperoni.” Her fingers snag a handful and she blushes again, popping one in her mouth.

“Just how you don’t eat greens?” I joke.

She narrows her eyes on me. “No, that’s a personal preference. I’m actually intolerant to dairy.”

“Ah.” I nod. That must be a sad way to live your life, not being able to have cheese.

“How was your day?” she asks, alternating between watching the TV and watching me for a response.