“I’m suddenly really looking forward to brunch today.”
I hang up, tossing the phone onto the bed while I slowly slide off. I sneak into the bathroom to check the damage. Blacking out at thirty isn’t nearly as fun as it was at twenty — and not nearly as cute either, that’s for damn sure.
I brush the tangles out of my brown hair and pull it up into a strategically sloppy bun. This breath has got to go, so I give my teeth a quick brush and rinse with mouthwash, all the while moving slowly because that urge to hurl is definitely stronger than it was at twenty, too.
I pull my jeans on before poking my head out into the hallway. Whoever it is, they know their way around a kitchen based on the cooking sounds echoing down the hall.
I pause outside the kitchen, taking a long, soothing breath to calm my nerves.
Time to go meet my one-night stand.
Please don’t be a serial killer...
I step into the kitchen, and my heart plunges downward toward that horrible, gray rock.
“No...” I say, staring at the back of his shaggy head. “No, no, no…”
A sleeve of black tattoos crawls up his right arm and disappears beneath a tight, white t-shirt. A leather jacket hangs over the back of a chair at the table for two in the corner.
“No...” is all I can say.
Robbie turns around and grins at me. “Good morning, sweetie!” he says.
I cringe as my head screams. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, massaging my temples.
“Making breakfast,” he says, turning back to the skillet. “Honestly, it’s the least I can do for you after what you did for me last night.”
I lower my hands. “What I did?”
“Oh, yeah...” He grunts with sinister pleasure as he glances back at me. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I hesitate to ask. “What did I do?”
The toaster pops and I flinch.
Robbie reaches for the toast. “It was amazing,” he says as he grabs a butter knife from the drawer. “You were like a cat in heat.”
“I was?”
“Usually when a woman tells me to put it anywhere I assume she’s kidding, but you...”
I deflate, holding my stomach. “Oh, god...”
Robbie laughs. “Mel, relax. I’m kidding. Joel called me last night and told me you were too drunk to get home. I came out, we got a cab, I put you to bed, and I crashed on the couch.”
I snort. “Yeah, right.”
He points across the room. I look to see the blanket draped along the couch, obviously recently used.
“Oh,” I say. “Story checks out, I guess.”
Robbie lays a plate down on the counter in front of me, filled to the edges with scrambled eggs, shredded cheddar, and buttered toast. “Eat up,” he says.
I shake my head. “There’s no way I can keep that down right now...”
“Yeah, that’s the point. You shove it down in less than three minutes and run to the bathroom. By minute five, you’re spewing, but by minute ten, you feel like a million bucks.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Hey...” He raises his hands. “Who else would you trust for a quickie hangover cure?”
“You make a decent point.” I reach for the toast, braving one perfectly buttered corner. “So, nothing happened?” I ask.
“Nada.”
“I wasn’t wearing pants.”
“Yeah, you did that,” he says with a grin. “Guess you felt a bit too warm.”
“That’s it?” I ask, hopeful. “That’s all that happened?”
“That’s it,” he answers.
I nod, believing him. If something happened, Robbie would shout it from the rooftops. “Good.”
“Anyway...” He clears his throat, amused. “I’ll get out your hair. Let you spew in peace.”
I eye the plate in front of me as he walks around the counter. “All right...”
“I’ll see you around, Mel.”
“Bye, Rob...” I watch him go, feeling a soft tug in my chest. “Hey, Rob.”
He pauses by the door. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I say slowly.
He chuckles. “That looked painful for you.”
“It was a little.” I shrug. “But really, I appreciate you getting me home last night. Not sure what I was thinking. You didn’t have to do this...”
“Yeah, I did,” he says.
I feel like I should argue. By now, that’s usually what me and Robbie would do, but... I don’t want to.
“Thank you,” I say again.
“Anytime,” he says, turning to the door again.
I look away, feeling my cheeks burn, and I notice his leather jacket still resting on the back of the chair.
“Wait, Rob.” I pick it up. “Your jacket.”
Something rolls out of the pocket, making a loud, metallic noise as it hits the floor by my feet.
Robbie starts toward it. “I’ll get that, just—”
I bend over, slowly picking it up off the floor. It’s a flat, copper colored coin. Shiny and engraved with...
Seven months?
I pause and look up at him standing beside me. “Robbie, what is...”
He snatches the coin from my hand. “I’ll take that...” he says, his face pointing down at the floor.
“Robbie.”
I take a closer look at him. He’s lucid. Not a shade of red anywhere in his eyes. Clean hair with only a light stubble on his face, meaning he’s shaving. Frequently. And he smells… nice?
“Are you sober?” I ask.
He hesitates before raising his head and nodding. “Yeah, I am,” he answers.
My jaw drops. “For how long — well...” I gesture at the coin. “Seven months, I guess?”
“Yeah, seven months this weekend, actually.”
“Holy shit.”
He flexes his right hand twice. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No, Rob, that’s... that’s huge. Congratulations. Or...” I wince. “Is this a congratulatory thing or does that sound as stupid as it does to me?”
“No, congratulations are fine,” he says. “Thank you.”
I stare at him as my heart pounds even harder. “Wow,” I say.
“Really, Mel,” he says, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t make a thing out of it.”
“Right.” I step back. “Of course.”
“I’m not…” He pauses. “I’m not ready to talk to you about it yet.”
I raise my hands, realizing that I’m still holding his jacket. “Consider it dropped.” I extend my arms, handing it to him.
He takes the jacket and slowly folds it over
