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I liked them. That’s the problem.

By the time I get home it’s eight forty, which means I’m behind, which means evening Olivia has failed morning Olivia.

I do the routine anyway, just out of order, which feels vaguely illegal. Teeth. Face. Lunch packed. Coffee maker set for six-fifteen. The apartment is exactly as I left it, down to the last detail.

I plug my phone in to charge.

And there are texts from Luke.

Luke

I’ve been told I need to find a night that works for you.

Dottie is insisting you come to dinner.

That is, if you want to come to dinner.

I should also note, I would enjoy your presence if you do decide to come.

I would enjoy your presence. Who talks like that. Who says it plainly and doesn’t dress it up.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, which is not part of the routine, and I’m smiling, which is also not part of the routine.

For once I don’t draft it three times and delete it. I just answer.

Olivia

I would love to come to dinner. I’m free every evening this week.

The second it’s gone, I realize I’ve informed a man that my entire calendar is empty, which is the least mysterious thing a person can do.

I decide I don’t care.

The dots appear almost right away.

Luke

Saturday, then. I’m off.

And just like that my whole week rearranges itself around a dinner I don’t know the menu of, with people I’ve met once.

I set the phone on the nightstand.

For the second time in a week, my routine is wrecked, and I’m not.

Chapter 10

Olivia

It’s Saturday.

Which means tonight is dinner at Luke’s, an invitation Dottie issued, Luke relayed, and I accepted before I’d finished reading the text. I’ve decided not to examine how fast I said yes.

We’ve texted every day this week. Not about anything in particular. That’s the part I keep noticing. Just getting to know each other.

Somewhere around Wednesday I asked the question I actually cared about.

Olivia