I’m distracted, because we haven’t settled who’s staying and who’s going, but Teddy arranges my limbs, asks me twice if I’m okay, puts his mouth under my ear, and pulls my knee up onto his hip. We forget everything now.

“More,” I say, and we shiver and stretch against each other, until I have him. The tenderness in his fingers as he pulls some hair away from my eyes has me wanting to hide my face in his shoulder, but he won’t allow it; my face is tipped back and he watches my eyes as he moves. He’s open for feedback, and when a perfect alignment is achieved, he laughs at the look on my face. “Oh, there we go. Come this way, if you can,” he invites me. “But if you can’t, no pressure. I’ve got a lot of tricks up my sleeve.”

“It feels like I’m going to come, if you stay just like that— and I do this— ”

I try to banish my thoughts. The bed squeaks and I’m so alive. I’m twenty-five and my blood is banging through my veins and his hazel eyes look at me with such amused affection, the way he always looks at me, and I tip over the edge and I’m coming, and he’s praising me, holding my shaking torso in a hug.

It’s pleasure, more than I’ve ever experienced, because it’s shared with him.

“Nice?” he asks me and I wordlessly nod. “Okay, good. Can you keep going?” Now we’re moving again. I still feel the aftershocks inside me, and now Teddy is taking his turn to move in the way that feels best for him; everything’s silky smooth and easy, but there’s a new angle and a new kind of friction.

“Let me just,” he starts a sentence but never finishes it.

His breath is coming too short; there’s physical effort that has his muscles straining and he’s working so hard. I firm up my spine and give back to him when I feel him starting to flag. It’s what causes him to groan, freeze, then dissolve into shuddering spasms.

I don’t know what to do now, so I put my arms around his shoulders and hug him until the tension melts out entirely and we’re dropped back into this room: two people who know each other fully now, and we kiss each other on the cheek. I always wondered what an afterglow would feel like: gratitude, and a smile, and I’m so glad. I tell him as much.

“I really didn’t expect it to be so good, right out of the gate,” I confess, which makes him laugh. “No, but really, so good. Once I found that angle …”

“It’s all about the angles, in my experience,” he says, then seems to wince at his words. “I mean— ”

“It’s okay. You knew what you were doing, and I was glad.” We hug together for a long time. We confess every little moment that we wanted each other. He’s out-of-his-mind horny when he sees me wearing my glasses. I tell him that the craftmanship on the butt of his jeans is art. The sound of the pipes filling my bathtub can make him hard. The shine in his hair gives me a candle-flicker in my uterus.

I tell him things that I cannot believe I have the courage to. “I want to be tattooed on you.” He just nods in reply, and our kisses are just a continuation of this intoxicating conversation.

I notice the time on my clock. “I might need to go check the office.”

“Nothing says afterglow of mind-blowing sex like checking an office,” he agrees. “But I already rechecked it for you. It’s okay, Tidy Girl. Everything’s safe. You’re safe.” He kisses my temple and pulls a blanket up over me.

How accepting he’s been of my compulsive tendencies is humbling. “This is probably a weird time to ask, but can I get the name of your therapist?”

He laughs a lot. “I traumatized you that badly tonight?” His smile fades. “Yes. Of course. I’ll take you. I’ll hold your hand in the waiting room. It’s going to be okay.”

The rest of the night is fabulous.

We have a bath together, and it’s infinitely more satisfying than talking through the wall. Teddy smells like a pink unicorn when he towels me off and tosses me back on the bed. The second time he sinks himself into me, I’m readier for the sensation and we find a looser, fast tempo. We change things up, three times, four times, laughing and handing each other pillows to prop each other up, until we can’t stop moving and there are no thoughts. I tighten, an impossible orgasm ripples outward like a stone dropped in a lake. Teddy follows soon after.

I make macaroni and cheese, wearing a towel as a dress. “This casual look works for you,” Teddy tells me from the stool at the counter as we eat. “You spoil me a lot.”

“I actually like spoiling people. I bring Melanie a spare yogurt every afternoon. She hasn’t noticed yet. It’s my love language.” The word love clangs and I falter— did I imagine the whole thing? When I check his face, he’s looking goofy-happy, eyes closed and smiling with his cheek on his folded fist. “Are you okay?”

“Just in love with my dream girl.”

I grin. “Dream Girl is currently parked … where is that bike, anyway? You’re taking me for a ride on it, remember.” I take our bowls to the sink and begin to fill them with hot water. He doesn’t say anything. “Right? You’re letting me have a ride?”

“I’m really sorry. I got it running and listed it for sale. I thought I had time, but I got an offer within hours. I know you guys thought that one was a piece of junk, but Indians are really collectible.”

“Oh.” I have his heart now, but it’s ridiculous how hurt I feel. “Did you get a good price?”

“A fortune.” He doesn’t sound that happy about it. “I never talk to you about this, because your eyes get really sad, but I’ve almost saved enough.” Enough to make him leave, just as I’ve finally gotten him.

“Let’s go to bed,” I tell him, because that’s an easy thing to reply. He follows me without question into my bedroom, where we lie skin to skin, and I force myself to feel every sensation, to catalog them with archival precision. I’m making memories I’m going to need one day.

All things considered, I’m still the luckiest girl alive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I’m a mess. A zombie. It’s now Monday morning and I’m at my desk staring at my computer, trying to work out what the hell I’m looking at. Why does the screen look different? The screen is bright blue, when usually it’s a sage green. Has last night’s intense, perfect sex with Teddy changed my eyesight?

“What’s up, girl. Ugh, you look rough,” Melanie says as she sails in, bright and early for once. “What’s happened to you?”

I’m weak-legged, swollen-lipped, heavy-headed, and wrung out. Nobody deserves to experience so much pleasure in one single night. I woke up wrapped in Teddy. He tipped my face toward a ray of daylight on my pillow to describe the exact brown of my eyes, before hopping out of bed to make me tea.

Melanie’s still staring at me, so I’ll stick with the easy explanation. “There’s something wrong with the computer.” I type my password and nothing happens. I put on my computer glasses and squint at the tiny pop-up. “Admin Access Only. What does that mean? We don’t even have an admin.”

“It means that head office has locked the network. I’ve seen this happen in lots of offices. You need to call PDC.” She yawns and goes into the bathroom with her makeup bag.

“I don’t know if they’ll even be there this early.” I dial the number for Rose Prescott’s assistant. It goes to voice mail. I leave one, asking her to call me. Mel reappears, this time with makeup on. “Now what do we do?”

She grins and swivels in her chair. “Want to strategize for your date?”

“Not during work hours.” I’m going to have to work out a way of telling her thanks but no thanks, the Sasaki Method is now coming to an end. I’ve already canceled that date in the app on my walk down the hill. I’m hoping to have this conversation with her when I might have some answers to what she’ll ask next: Are you leaving here? Is he staying here?

I blame extreme tiredness for how long it takes me to realize there’s someone standing in the doorway. “Can I help you?”

A gray-haired man in a suit comes in, sets a small suitcase against the wall, and reaches in his jacket pocket. “I’m Duncan O’Neill. I’m a financial auditor, contracted by PDC. Rose Prescott is the head of the review. I’m reporting to her for this next part of the process.”

“This is news to me.”

“Financial auditor,” Melanie repeats. “You guys think someone is stealing.” Duncan looks at her sharply, but she says to me, “I’ve temped at places where this has happened before. It’s why you can’t log into the system. We’re locked out and he’s going to go through all your files and accounts. Is that right?”

“Yes, more or less,” Duncan says, a little flustered. “Rose has identified some anomalies.”

I’m already dialing her number. She answers on the second ring. “Duncan has arrived, I take it.”

“You’re on speakerphone with Melanie and Duncan. Could you please fill me in on this? I would have appreciated some advance notice.”