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percolate up. I was moisturizing my face and stopped mid-circle on my cheek, remembering him saying something about the asshole I’d decked at the gym needing to be put in his place.
    Had he really said that?!
    And would he remember it today?! I sure hoped so…
    As I rewound and fast-forwarded events from the night prior, I realized and remembered that he’d only had a couple of stouts. Whereas I had drunk myself into oblivion. Oh dear…
    So, that meant, that whatever he’d said and done, had been considerably more sober than anything I might have said and done.
    I weighed my options. I could go out there and find him passed out on my sofa. Or, he could be gone, with no sign of him anywhere, him clearly having not stayed the night. Or, he could be somewhere in between, doing god only knows what.
    I put on my game-face, my need for coffee giving me courage to open my bedroom door. When I did so, I was hit with the enticing scent of brewed coffee and someone cooking breakfast. I tippy-toed my way down the hallway and sure enough, Abe was in my kitchen. He was humming softly to himself and clearly was in chef mode.
    My place smelled amazing!
    On my dining table, I spied his MacBook and as I passed by on my way to the kitchen, I glanced at what he was using it for. My book!
    Wow… that was amazing. Even after all the crazy of yesterday, he’d gone straight back to work. I’d found that admirable.
    With the stove fan, going – I’d managed to sneak up on him unawares. So, he jumped a little when I said, “Good Morning.”
    “Cassidy!” He said, leaping around to face me.
    I giggled my apology, “Sorry, I’m not in my best form. A wee bit hung-over, methinks.”       
    I made my way to the coffee pot, which was blessedly full and poured myself a large cup. He hadn’t responded verbally yet, waiting I think until I’d had my first sip. Coffee is a form of sanity for those of us who are not natural morning people. Being a writer, I was definitely part of that camp. I was a complete night-owl.
    Instead, he was observing me, somewhat intensely, assessing me. If I didn’t know better, his nose wiggled a bit, as if he were sniffing me.
    “I hope you don’t mind that I stayed over. After a day like yesterday…” He said, a bit apprehensively.
    I waved it off, “Totally fine. I’m just hoping that I didn’t manage to embarrass myself any more than I already have. I can’t believe I was, like, in jail!?” I said, shaking my head back and forth.
    I made my way to the dining table and pulled out a chair to sit down at. He watched me, a funny look on his face. “How much do you remember? About yesterday and last night?”
    For some reason, that made me wince, as if I knew he was getting at something important, but so much had happened, and the later part of the night was a blur. It was coming back to me, slowly. I could feel it, but couldn’t quite grasp my mind around it.
    “It’s starting to come back…” I eeked out, unsure still of the entirety of the events.
    He grinned, his gaze brushing my face with a sweet look… of longing ? Then he turned back to the kitchen stove, taking a sip of his coffee, and finished turning the bacon he was frying up, along with eggs and pancakes.
    Was that desire I’d just witnessed on his face?!
    While he earnestly worked on the most amazing breakfast I’d ever had anyone prepare for me, I sipped at my coffee and let it do its magic, waking me up. At some point, I remembered, quite vividly, that I owed Abe for my bail money. I reached for my purse, which was conveniently lying on one of the dining chairs and pulled out my checkbook. I wrote out the check and then placed it on his MacBook ’s keyboard. Soon, I’d be writing him another check, for editing my revised book.
    He stepped out of the kitchen, and brought out settings for us both. I suddenly felt lazy and rude, allowing my night-guest to do all the work.
    “I’m so sorry. Just sitting here drinking coffee.