Why is he calling me this early?
“Hey, is everything okay?” I answer.
“Your chariot awaits,” he says.
“My chariot?”
He laughs. “When you’re ready, come down. I’m in the black car outside your front door.”
I go to the window and peer down. It’s pitch-black except for the street lights, but I faintly make out a car sitting at the curb.
“You’re waiting for me?”
“Yep. Come down.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes I just need to finish getting ready.”
“No problem. See you soon.”
My heart beats faster, and I look in the mirror. My hair is in a bun for work, and I pull it out and try to make it nicer, securing the hair tie over my wrist for later.
A million thoughts are racing through my mind.
He came to see me again.
Is he seriously in the car?
Is this really happening?
Who is this guy?
Within minutes, I’m outside, and he steps out of the back of the car. He wraps me in his arms and kisses me. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. And especially not this early.”
“I told you I wanted to see youbefore I left.”
I’m smiling so big my face is hurting. “Well, it’s nice to see you again.”
He steps back, opens the door, and motions for me to get in.
Is this guy for real?
I get into the car, and he follows. The dividing window is closed.
“How do you take your coffee?” He opens a brown paper bag. I notice two cups in the holder.
“Cream, two sugars, not the fake crap.”
He mixes them into my cup, puts the lid back on, then adds the stopper to it. In one swift move, he pulls me onto his lap.
“You’re crazy,” I tell him.
“Crazy about you.”
My face flushes.
“Do you have a busy day?” he asks.
