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My face fell. “I’m sorry…”

He seemed to realize what he’d implied. “No, it’s fine. I didn’t mind waking up—”

“I thought you said you were already up.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Okay. I was not up. But I’m happy to help. Seriously.”

I gave him a look that called bullshit.

“I mean it,” he said. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I would have woken up anyway and just laid there, so at least I’m doing something.”

I didn’t get to press him for more because the bread showed up.

The server dropped it off, then brought us two plates and a ramekin of butter and left again. She was right, they were huge, lined up next to each other across the table like we were at a farmers market.

“So how’d you meet Mike?” I asked while he pulled the French loaf in front of him and started slicing.

“We grew up on the same street. Jesse and Xavier too. Went to school together.”

“Same college too?”

He slid me a piece. “No, Mike didn’t go. He went into a trade.”

I cocked my head. “A trade? What trade?”

He looked surprised. “He’s a licensed master plumber. He didn’t tell you?”

“No…”

“Yeah. He can do all of it,” he said, buttering his slice. “It’s his side hustle right now. He prefers the personal training, but he is a plumber.”

Huh. I had to admit, that impressed me. And Mike had never mentioned it, which sort of impressed me more.

He nodded at me. “Have you met his stepdad yet?”

“Not yet,” I said, taking a bite of the bread.

“You’ve probably seen his billboards. The Toilet King?”

I had to cover my mouth when my jaw dropped. “That’s Mike’s stepdad? The Henry Tudor guy with the plunger?”

“Yeah. That’s why Mike went into the business. I think Tony wants to leave it to him when he retires.”

“I had no idea that was Donna’s husband. Wow.”

He took a bite and chewed, then he gestured to mine. “Thoughts?”

“I like it,” I said. “It has a really nice crust on it.”

“Yeah, but almost too much. It was a little hard to bite into,” he said, examining it.

“So what’s your rating, then?” I asked.

He bobbed his head. “I give it a seven and a half out of ten. You?”

“Nine out of ten.”

“Really. That high.” He wrote down my answer. Then he set the napkin aside and started cutting slices of the sourdough. “So how long is your mom going to be in the hospital?” he asked.