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“Maybe.”

“It’s a very small apartment. And you cannot leave it.”

“I’ll deal with it if it becomes a problem. For now, I have books and coffee and you. I’ll survive.”

“You’re going to lose your mind.”

“Probably.”

“I have to go grocery shopping,” I say before I acknowledge aloud that he drove three thousand miles just to spend time with me.

“You’ve mentioned.”

“I have to go now before I do something stupid like stay in this bed with you all day.”

“Would that be stupid?”

“Not until we’re hungry, and since you ate all of my snacks…”

“I was hungry.”

I get up. He catches my hand before I’ve fully stood, tugs me down for another kiss, and then lets me go.

“Bring back something good for dinner,” he says. “I’ll cook.”

“You cooked yesterday too.”

“I like cooking. Let me cook.”

“Okay.”

He stays on the bed watching me as I get dressed.

“Back in an hour,” I say.

“Take your time.”

I grab my keys, wallet, and coat, and I let myself out.

The stairwell is cold, and the air in the parking lot is colder. I pull my scarf up and start walking toward the car with my head down.

I’m waiting for the heat in the car to kick in when my phone rings with a call from my mom.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Griffin, sweetheart, I know you’re going to say you’re busy, but I just wanted to remind you about dinner tomorrow. Your father’s making his pot roast.”

“Umm—”

“I know you’ve been swamped with the Christmas Festival and the Thanksgiving market, but you have to eat sometime, and I would like to see my son.”

“Mom, I actually can’t make it tomorrow.”

“Oh, honey.”

“I’ve got a work thing. Emmett flagged something with one of the vendors last night and I need to sort it out before Monday.”

“On a Sunday?”