“Oh my God. Oh. My. God.” She shook her head. “It was Sebastian Maxwell, wasn’t it?”

When I continued to not say anything, that was all but an admission.

“Holy shit.” She put the wine on the counter and proceeded to open it. “I’m grabbing a glass for this, and then you’re gonna tell me everything.”

After, we sat down in the living room, and I told Devin everything that had happened today while sparing some of the most intimate details (as much as she would have wanted and appreciated them). So I told her that we slept together but kept the specifics to myself.

“Holy shit. I can’t believe it. Why don’t you seem stoked? This is, like, the best thing ever to happen to us.”

Us?

I frowned. “It really was. The best thing ever. No one’s ever made me feel the way he did.”

Drawing her own conclusion from my expression, she added, “But . . .”

“But something I couldn’t quite figure out changed before he left. I think maybe what happened really hit him.”

“What do you mean . . . like the fact he fucked you?”

“It’s not the first time he’s had sex since his wife died. But I get the impression it was the first time it was with someone he might have feelings for. I think maybe either he started to feel guilty or maybe he regretted it. I can’t be sure.”

She sighed. “Of course it can’t be simple, right?”

“No. And in this case, I wouldn’t expect it to be. To be honest, I’m still a little shocked that it actually happened. So I can imagine how he feels, all the emotions he might be going through once the reality of what we did sets in. I just hope he’s okay.”

She swirled her wine around in the glass and shook her head. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Most women would feel neglected in your shoes. But you’re actually thinking about his feelings? You really care about him, don’t you?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes. Yes, I really do, and it’s scaring me because I stand a very real chance of getting hurt because of that.”

The way our texts read, anyone picking up my phone might’ve thought this man was my brother. I sighed and scrolled back to reread our messages from the last couple of days.

Late Sunday night, after Devin had left, there had been:

Sebastian: Hey. Sorry I had to run this afternoon. I had a really nice time.

Nice?

That wouldn’t be the word I’d use to describe earth-shattering sex. Phenomenal? Amazing? Incredible? “Nice” . . . was more like something your great-aunt said to you. Thanks for stopping by the nursing home today, Sadie. It was so nice to see you.

Yet . . . I’d followed his lead and typed back.

Sadie: No worries! I had a nice time, too.

Then on Monday evening, I just couldn’t stop wondering what was going on in Sebastian’s head. So I decided it was my turn to initiate contact this time. I figured I’d be funny. So I typed:

Sadie: Hey. How was your lay?

The dots had moved around a bit, then stopped, and then started again. Eventually, he’d typed back.

Sebastian: Busy. How about yours?

I’d been disappointed he didn’t take the bait with my intentional typo, yet I replied back:

Sadie: Good!

Tuesday and Wednesday, we had no interaction, then last night I got my hopes up when my phone buzzed with an incoming text:

Sebastian: Are you busy Saturday evening?

I’d been thinking . . . dinner . . . a movie . . . sex maybe?

Sadie: I’m free after seven!

But my heart sank reading his response.

Sebastian: Think we can do training at 7:30 or 8:00? Birdie has been bugging me. Apparently she taught Duke a new trick, and she can’t wait to show you. She won’t even show it to me first.

I smiled at Birdie’s being excited. Though again I felt disappointment that the text didn’t mention anything about the two of us. Yet still, I said nothing. Instead, I’d answered:

Sadie: That sounds good. Can’t wait!

Half an hour later it was still irking me how innocuous our texts had been. So I decided to see if maybe I could get a rise out of him. It was dumb, a spur-of-the-moment reaction to my feelings being hurt, and I regretted it right after I hit “Send.”

Sadie: It might be closer to 8:00, but I’ll come straight after my . . . work thingy.

I chewed on my nail, waiting to see how he’d respond. He knew what type of work things I often did after business hours. This time, I had a combination happy hour and six minute dating with a friend event. After everything that had transpired between Sebastian and me the last two weeks, the truth was, I felt weird about going at all. Eight six-minute dates with men consuming copious amounts of alcohol wouldn’t have sounded appealing even if I’d never met Sebastian Maxwell. But I’d signed up two months ago because the with a friend part intrigued me, and I’d thought it would make for a fun article. In regular speed dating, you spent five to ten minutes talking to a stranger and then moved on to the next. At the end of a session of six or eight different mini dates, you wrote down if you were interested in an actual date with any of the men. If they also wrote your name down, then your contact information was given to each of you by the host. That was all true with this event, too. Only tomorrow night’s event had a twist. Both the man and woman seeking the dates brought a friend, and it was the friends who did the talking on the six-minute dates. They each asked questions about the prospective date to the prospective date’s friend. It sounded a little nutty, but I knew bringing Devin would make it interesting. Plus, months ago, I’d had no idea the Maxwells would be in my life. Which was pretty surreal to think about now, since I felt like I’d known them so much longer.

I watched my phone as my text went from Sent to Delivered to Read. The little dots started to jump around, and I held my breath, waiting to see Sebastian’s response.

Sebastian: Work thingy?

I smiled to myself. I’d gotten his attention, but as I started to type back, I became nervous. Why? I didn’t know. It wasn’t like we were in an exclusive relationship or anything. Though to me, things with Sebastian weren’t exactly casual, either. I regretted poking the bear even after I’d gotten exactly what I’d been after. How would I feel if Sebastian told me he had a date? Ugh. I needed to backtrack a bit . . . rewind and put Jack back in the box.

Sadie: Yeah. Just some research for an article.

But Sebastian wasn’t having it.

Sebastian: A date?

Well, technically I had eight dates. Though I didn’t think I needed to clarify that small point at the moment.

Sadie: Technically yes. Though not really. Just a new kind of speed dating for an upcoming article.

I braced myself, waiting for the response. While we’d been texting back and forth conversation-style, suddenly Sebastian went radio silent. It was a full ten minutes before my phone buzzed again. And when it did, my heart stuttered to a halt as I read his words:

Sebastian: Have a good time.

“So. What does Tyler do for a living?” Devin said, sipping her second Cosmo.

Tyler’s friend Ethan answered. “He’s a pilot. Does long hauls between here and Sydney.”