I had no idea how she kept up with it all. She seemed exhausted whenever we talked on the phone, but she never complained.

  “You know if this woman really wanted to hang with you, she would, right?” Ani said conspiratorially through the phone. It was Tuesday night, and I was currently lying on my couch, icing my knee. I’d twisted it at practice, and it had swelled up like a balloon almost instantly. I’d been elevating and icing it for the last hour, and it didn’t seem to be making much of a difference.

  “I’m not taking your advice,” I replied, shifting carefully. “You said breakfast wasn’t a date, and you were clearly wrong.”

  “I wasn’t wrong,” she shot back.

  “She’s into me,” I replied stubbornly.

  “She’s not that into you.”

  “She’s busy.”

  “No one is that busy.”

  “She’s got a full-time job and is working toward her MBA,” I argued. “She’s crazy busy.”

  “Fine,” Ani said with a sigh, making me grin. “But, dude, seriously. Is this even a thing if you never actually see her?”

  My face fell. Why did she have to ask the one question that had been rolling around in my brain the past couple of days?

  “I have seen her—we just don’t live in each other’s pockets,” I said finally. “Why are you so bitchy lately?”

  “Jesus,” she said with a groan. “I’m sorry. I’m totally bitchy.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she snapped, then immediately her voice softened. “Sorry, I’m just stressed.”

  If Ani was owning up to not having everything in her world perfectly handled, I knew that whatever she had going on had to be serious. She wasn’t a complainer.

  “Anything I can help with?” I asked.

  “No, not really.” She was quiet for a moment. “Arielle’s still on a shitty sleep schedule.”

  “She’s sleeping a little, right?” I asked. For a while, my sweet little niece had been keeping her parents up all night, every night. The doctor had told them it was purely developmental and there wasn’t anything wrong, but it hadn’t made their sleep deprivation any easier to deal with.

  “Yeah,” Ani replied. “But it’s still not great, and I think it’s making Bram question if we should have any more.”

  “What?” I sat up a little straighter on the couch. “That’s nuts.”

  “I know that,” she said. “But we were doing all this paperwork to get certified to foster—you know, so we could hopefully adopt at some point? And now Bram is dragging his feet about it.”

  “He’s just overwhelmed and exhausted,” I assured her. “You know Bram wants more kids. My idiot brother is kind of great at the whole dad thing.”

  “Yeah.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Who knew?”

  “I did,” I said smugly. “I just wasn’t sure if he’d pull his head out long enough to realize it.”

  “You have such a way with words,” Ani said drily. “Shit, Arie’s awake. I’ll text you later, okay?”

  “Sounds good. Give my baby girl a big kiss from her favorite uncle.”

  “I will. She loves kisses from Uncle Shane,” she said, referring to my sister Kate’s husband. Ani laughed just before the phone line went dead.

  “I’m her favorite,” I snapped, knowing that she couldn’t even hear me.

  I dropped my phone and cursed as I lifted the ice pack off my knee again. The skin was tight and looked like it was beginning to bruise. I dropped my feet to the floor and let out a loud groan as I pushed myself off the couch. Dammit, I really didn’t want to go to medical to get the thing looked at, but putting any weight on it was excruciating. I hobbled into the kitchen, threw the ice pack into the sink, and grabbed some ibuprofen out of a cabinet. I wished that our doctors handed out something stronger, but they rarely did, so I never had any good painkillers lying around the house.

  After using my beer to wash down the pills, I made my way to the shower. I hadn’t even rinsed the dirt and stink off when I’d gotten home, because I’d been in such a hurry to ice my damn knee before it got any worse.

  Getting old sucked. Who knew thirty was the new seventy?

  By the time I climbed out, feeling more relaxed, I was also in more pain. My knee just continued to fucking swell.

  I toweled off quickly and dropped onto my bed, grabbing an extra pillow to prop up my leg. When I was situated, my mind was once again full of Sarai. The way she talked, the way she moved, the way she smiled and used her hands like they were part of the conversation.

  Ani was right. If we weren’t actually seeing each other, what were we doing? I’d thought the night of our picnic had gone really well, but I hadn’t seen Sarai since, and it was messing with my head.

  I lifted my phone and pulled up our text messages. I hadn’t talked to her since this morning, and although that wasn’t uncommon for us, it suddenly felt like a glowing red flag.

  Hey, what are you up to? I texted. It was a stupid question. I knew what she was up to. It was Tuesday, and she always worked on schoolwork Tuesday nights. I could set my calendar by how regimented Sarai was.

  Writing a paper, pacing, writing some more, pacing, deleting and rewriting…

  Dammit. I sighed. I was doing exactly what she’d said I would do. I was fucking pouting about her busy schedule. Before I could regroup, she sent me another text.

  What are you doing? Softball practice tonight, right? 

  Hurt my knee and came home early. Want some company?

  There, I’d made my move. Ten minutes went by with no answer, so I sent another message.

  I’ll bring my cleaning supplies…

  Almost as soon as I’d sent my last text, a reply popped up on my phone.

  Sure. What happened to your knee? Have you had dinner?

  I grinned and texted her back.

  Knee’s no big deal. I can grab something on my way over.

  Seriously? Thank you! I’m staring at my fridge and it’s pretty much empty.

  On my way.

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed without thinking and let out a string of curses that would have made my mother blush. Dammit. I took a few minutes to breathe through the pain, then got up and dressed. I was really grateful that I’d taken that shower earlier, because there was no way I could take one now. I was definitely going to medical tomorrow.

  I thought about going to a drive-through since walking to my truck was so painful, but at the last second, I turned toward Mr. and Mrs. K’s restaurant. I wasn’t sure what Sarai would want for dinner, but I knew they’d never steer me wrong.

  I took a deep breath as I parked in the restaurant’s parking lot, then gritted my teeth as I climbed out of my truck. My knee seemed to be getting worse as I moved around, and I probably should have stayed home, but I was determined to see Sarai.

  “Alex!” Mr. Krakowski called out as I pushed my way through the front door.

  “Hey,” I replied, smiling. I’d never get tired of the greeting I got when I walked through the front door. As I limped my way toward him, he frowned.

  “What’s the matter?” He hurried toward me. “Are you hurt?”

  “Messed up my knee tonight,” I said, grimacing as I shifted my weight to my good leg. “No big deal.”

  “It looks like a big deal,” he replied, staring at my leg like he could see the swollen knee through my jeans. “We’ll get you seated quickly.”

  “Actually,” I said before he could walk away. “I was wondering if you do to-go orders? I’m bringing over some food to Sarai since she’s studying.”

  “That girl studies too much,” he said firmly, shaking his head.

  “I agree. I was hoping you could pick something she likes?”

  Mr. K grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Yes,” he said with a happy nod. “Mama made some matzo ball soup tonight. Perfect for the rainy weather.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “You go sit. I’ll get your food.” He turned on his heel and made his way toward the kitchen as I sat down in a chair near the front door.

  It took only a few minutes for Mrs. K to bring our dinner out, but by the time I’d made my way to Sarai’s apartment, my knee felt as if it were on fire. Sweat had made my back clammy, and I could feel my shirt sticking to it.

  “Hello,” Sarai sang happily, opening her door as soon as I’d knocked. She smiled until her eyes reached mine, and then her face fell. “Are you okay?”

  I can’t explain how badly I wanted to tell her that I was fine, not to worry, no big deal. But as I felt a bead of sweat run down my back and into my waistband, I grimaced.

  “My knee’s killing me,” I said, gesturing to the place that was currently throbbing with every beat of my heart. “It’s swollen as hell.”

  “Oh no.” She reached for my arm. “Come in and sit down.”

  I followed her inside and set the soup on her countertop. Her front door opened into the kitchen, and I glanced around, taking in the little potted herbs on the windowsill and the fruit bowl in the middle of the counter with a solitary apple set in the center. We made our way into the little living room area, and I grinned at the ugly couch that looked like it was at least thirty years old and the expensive and very large TV. The woman had her priorities in order. Sarai gestured to the couch and waited for me to sit down. Then, without a word, she leaned forward and pulled off my shoes so she could gently lift my foot onto the ottoman.

  “Is that okay?” she asked when she was done.

  The pressure on my knee was already a little better, and I sighed in relief. “Yeah. That helps. This couch is more comfortable than it looks.”

  “I know, right?” she said, smiling huge. “I found it at a garage sale. It’s not pretty, but it feels like a warm hug when you sit in it.”

  I laughed at her description.

  “I can’t believe you came over when you were in so much pain,” she said as she swatted my shoulder. “You should be at the hospital or at least home in bed.”

  “I wanted to see you,” I replied, grabbing her hand. “And it’s not that bad.”

  “You have”—she pointed to her temple and tapped it, grimacing—“sweat. Right here.”

  “Shit,” I mumbled, reaching up to wipe off my face.

  “I’ll get our dinner,” she said with a small smile. “What did you bring? Would you like some water?”

  “You don’t have to serve me,” I argued, leaning forward to move my leg off the ottoman.

  “Do not move,” she ordered. “Stay right there.”

  “Sarai,” I said, frustration making my voice come out lower than normal.

  “Alex,” she mimicked in the same tone.

  I leaned my head against the couch and scowled. This wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured our evening going. I hadn’t gone to her house so that she could take care of me. I’d wanted to bring her dinner, do something nice because I knew how busy she was. Instead, she was waiting on me.

  It took only a few minutes before she had us all set up in the living room, our bowls of soup and glasses of water on a little tray between us on the couch. Sarai sat facing me, her back against the arm of the couch and one leg folded under her.

  “How did you hurt your leg?” she asked, picking up her bowl. Both bowls had little Koozies of some sort wrapped around them, and I took a closer look at mine as I grabbed my food.

  “I twisted my knee sliding into second,” I said with a sigh. I sounded like an idiot.

  “That sounds painful,” she murmured, blowing gently on her spoon before taking a bite of her soup.

  “It was stupid,” I confessed ruefully. “I was joking around, and it backfired.”

  “What do you think is wrong with it? Are you going to see a doctor?”

  “Yeah, I’ll go tomorrow.” I took a bite of my soup, and my eyes opened wide in horror. The liquid was so hot that it was like molten lava. I choked for a second before swallowing it down. “Holy shit,” I gasped, quickly grabbing my water glass and taking a large gulp. “I didn’t realize how hot it was.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Sarai apologized, wincing. “I forgot how much the bowl sweaters fool you into thinking the food is cooler than it is.”

  “Bowl sweaters?” I asked, my lips twitching.

  Sarai rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Well, what would you call them?”

  “Koozies?”

  “Those are for beer cans,” she argued. “And these are prettier.”

  “Why would you buy bowl sweaters anyway?” I asked, lifting a spoonful of soup so I could blow on it.

  “Oh, I didn’t buy them.” She shook her head. “I got them from my secret Santa at work last year.”

  I stared at her with one brow raised.

  “What?” she asked, laughing a little.

  “Santa?”

  “They probably don’t know I’m Jewish,” she said with a shrug.

  “Why wouldn’t you say something?” I asked with a chuckle.

  “Because then I wouldn’t get a secret Santa present,” she said, a mischievous little smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “Maybe you’d get eight,” I pointed out.

  “I work with accountants,” she replied. “They’re too cheap to buy anyone eight presents.”

  I laughed.

  “I feel their pain,” I said. “Christmas gets expensive! I have a big family, so it adds up.”

  “I just have my aunt and uncle,” she replied. “But we usually do small holiday gifts for the neighbors, too.”

  “Pretty tight-knit community, huh?” I asked.

  “Understatement,” Sarai joked. “You can’t sneeze without a neighbor yelling bless you from three doors down.”

  I chuckled.

  “It’s nice,” she admitted. “It drove me crazy when I was younger, but I miss it now.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said with a nod. “I used to hate that my family was always sticking their noses into my business, but now I find myself calling them to tell them stuff.”

  “Oh yeah?” she replied nonchalantly. “Have you told them about me?”

  I smiled, watching her as she looked down and then back at me, waiting for a reply. “Yeah,” I said finally.

  “Well,” she blurted, raising her eyebrows. “What have you said?”

  “That I met a woman,” I replied slowly. “And she’s smart and beautiful and way too good for me.”

  She blushed and looked back at her soup. Damn, she was cute.

  “Actually,” I said. “My sister and sister-in-law were convinced that our breakfast date meant you’d put me in the friend zone.”

  “Why?” she asked in surprise.

  “Apparently, breakfast isn’t a date.” I shrugged.

  “It felt like a date to me,” she said quietly.

  “Me too,” I murmured, reaching out to give her thigh a squeeze.

  We sat there talking long after our soup bowls were empty and she’d cleared the little table from the couch. I learned that even though she was crazy busy, she seemed to sail through academics like they were nothing. She didn’t love the place she worked, but she liked the people she worked with and that was good enough for now. She had only a few good friends in Missouri, and Hailey was her best friend, but they’d barely talked lately, because Sarai couldn’t stand Sean and had a hard time hiding it.

  Sarai was funny and sarcastic, but I’d never heard her say anything mean. Intelligent, but she didn’t act like a know-it-all, even though I knew without a doubt that she was smarter than I was.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said, leaning my head against the back of the couch as I looked at her.

  “Thank you,” she replied, smiling. No argument or preening, just confidence in her own worth. “I find you very handsome as well,” she said teasingly.

  “Thank you,” I mimicked. But I wasn’t as comfortable with compliments as she was, and I couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped my lips.

  “Are you embarrassed?” she asked with a surprised chuckle. “Mr. I’m So Sure of Myself?”

  “I’m not embarrassed.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re practically blushing!” She stretched her foot across the couch and gave me a little nudge with her toes. “What happened to the guy who couldn’t believe I turned him down for a date?” she teased.

  “Number one,” I said, grabbing her foot before she could pull away. I ran my finger along the bottom of it, making her squirm. “I’m not embarrassed. And number two…yeah, I was really fucking surprised.” I laughed as she snorted.

  “What?” I asked, beginning to massage her foot with both hands. “I don’t get turned down much.”

  “Ha!” she said, getting more comfortable as she lifted the other foot so I could reach both. She stretched out on the couch and crossed her arms behind her head, leaning back against a throw pillow. “You’re not everyone’s type.”

  I met her eyes, my expression completely deadpan, but didn’t reply.

  In response, she snorted again and wiggled her toes. I liked that little snorting sound she made; it was fucking adorable.

  “I don’t usually ask someone out if I think they’re not interested,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  “Fear of rejection, huh?” she said with a little laugh. “What in the world gave you the impression that I was interested that night? We barely spoke.”

  “Actually,” I replied, giving her foot a squeeze, “I try to respect people’s boundaries. If I don’t think someone is interested, I don’t want to make them uncomfortable by making a pass. And you were interested that night—you were basically staring.”

  She sat up quickly. “I was not!”

  “Sure you were. I could practically feel your eyes burning a hole in the side of my head while I ate.” I was full of shit. She’d barely noticed me while we’d been inside the restaurant. It wasn’t until we were outside that I’d thought that maybe I had a chance.

  “Perhaps it was because your table manners are atrocious,” she said.

  “My table manners are impeccable,” I shot back. “Sushi is hard to eat with chopsticks.”