“Holy shit,” I mutter, and immediately step out of my heels, leaving them by the door. “What a day.”

I shake my head and immediately start stripping out of my work clothes, leaving a path of fashion behind me on the way to my bedroom.

I’ve been in Mac’s loft because I used to help the lady who lived there with her e-mail. I think she was secretly fine with electronics; she was just lonely. That loft is much more open than mine. I opted to have my bedroom closed in, with a nice big closet and en suite bathroom. But his living and kitchen areas are similar to mine; wide-open space with the urban look of an old warehouse. I love this place. I bought it when the building was going up a few years ago. It’s the best thing I ever did.

“And now the hottest man I’ve ever met is on top of me.”

I stop and cover my hands over my mouth, trying to hold in my giggle.

“That’s what she said.” I smirk, not concerned in the least that I’m talking to myself. “Having a conversation with yourself is perfectly healthy. Besides, I’m the only one here. Who else would I speak to?”

I pull on some yoga pants and a tank top, sans bra, pull all the pins out of my hair and brush it, then pull it into a ponytail so I can scrub my face.

“The fact that Mac lives in my building could be an issue,” I say to my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands and get ready to wash my face. “I mean, what if whatever it is we’re doing doesn’t work out? What if it ends badly and we can’t stand the sight of each other? I’ll have to move!” I scrub the makeup off my face. “I don’t want to move. I love my place, and I finally have a good amount of equity in it. It just doesn’t make financial sense to sell right now.”

I rinse my face, then pat it dry with a towel.

“But why should I have to be the one to move?” I ask my reflection as I lather on my night cream. “I mean, I was here first. If he’s uncomfortable, he should be the one to leave.”

I nod once and then stop, staring at myself. “Geez, this whole patient and counselor thing probably isn’t great when it’s for yourself.”

I sigh and shake my head. “You should just call one of the girls. Maybe you just need to talk.”

I nod again and walk out of the bathroom to my kitchen.

“Addie used to always be up this late, but she’s probably in bed by now, since she’s a hundred months pregnant and all.” I reach for the wine in the fridge. “Maybe I should pour two glasses: one for me and one for me.” I laugh at myself, pouring just one glass.

“Cami and Landon are probably in bed, so she’s out.” I walk across the room and sit in my favorite chair. It looks out my floor-to-ceiling windows, so I can sit and stare at my view. “Riley’s not a night person, so she’s asleep. I can only hope that Mia’s in bed too, because if anyone needs a good night’s sleep, it’s her.”

I take a long sip of wine.

“If the roles were reversed, what would I tell one of them?” I wonder. “I would tell me to stop overthinking it all. I overthink everything, and frankly, it’s a pain in the ass. It’s probably why I can’t sleep most of the time, because I never let myself stop thinking.

“But now that I’m not with Mac, I’m wide-awake again.” I set my glass aside and reach for my e-reader. “Hello, friend.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“That’s a little pathetic. Well, maybe not pathetic, but weird. Your e-reader is one of your best friends.”

I pet the leather cover and smile. “But I have lots of friends in this thing. Reading is what I do when I can’t sleep.”

I open it up, turn it on, and open my reading app. “And I definitely can’t sleep now, so I’ll read.”

The book I’m currently reading is about a man who owns a ship-building company in New Orleans. He falls in love with a psychic woman, and, man, is she funny. Romance novels are my favorite, but I’ll read anything I can get my hands on. Even cookbooks and biographies.

But no horror. I can’t read those. Too scary.

Only planning to read for a little while, I get swept up in broken waterlines and sexy banter, and the next thing I know, I look up and the sky is a light gray. The sun is going to be up in less than an hour.

And I haven’t been to bed yet. Which is normal for me, but if I’m going to survive Saturday night at work, I’d better get a nap in.

But rather than make the journey to the bedroom, I curl up in the chair and close my eyes, hoping that sleep will take over.

I have the mother of all kinked-up necks in the history of the world. Not only did I sleep, but I slept in the same position on the chair for a whopping five hours.

I’m going to pay for it for the rest of the day.

Damn.

Not to mention, I’m running later than I would like to getting to work. It’s still early afternoon, but it’s also Saturday, which means we’ll be busy tonight.

I consider taking my car to work today, and then shake my head. It’s a short walk, and by the time I find parking near the restaurant, I’ll have been better off walking anyway.

But just as I step off the elevator into the foyer of the building, I almost run smack-dab into Mac.

“Whoa,” he says, gripping my shoulders and steadying me.

“Sorry.” I look up and feel my mouth go dry. He’s been running, or biking or something, because he’s dripping in sweat.