My phone rings, jerking me out of the book I was reading. It’s late, so I grapple for the phone on the nightstand, worried it might be one of my sisters. “Hello,” I say.

“I have something that belongs to you down here,” Henry says on a heavy sigh. I sit up and drop my feet to the floor.

“What is it?”

“It’s Mick. The boy can’t hold his liquor worth a damn. I need for you to come and get him.”

“Did you get him drunk, Henry?” I ask.

I can hear Mick singing loudly through the phone. “Now is not the time to discuss how it happened,” Henry says.

“I’ll be right there.”

I get up and slip on a robe over my T-shirt and boy shorts and I slide my feet into a pair of sandals. I go downstairs and step into the lobby of the building. It’s two in the morning, so I don’t anticipate running into anyone but Henry. Well, Henry and Mick.

Henry looks up from where he’s sitting on a couch reading a magazine. “At least he’s a funny drunk,” he says. He nods toward where Mick is sprawled across the other sofa. He’s singing a dirty song about a guy named McSweeney who spilled some gin on his weenie.

“Oh, my God,” I say.

Mick opens his eyes and grins at me. “Hey Wren.”

“C’mon, Mick,” I say. “It’s time to go home.” I look at Henry. “Did you call a car for him?”

Henry shakes his head. “I tried. No one was available.”

“I find it hard to believe that there’s no car available in the city, Henry.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Henry puffs out his chest. But he also won’t look me in the eye.

“If the shoe fits.”

“You should take him home with you and let him sleep it off,” Henry says. He busies himself cleaning off the coffee table and organizing the magazines.

“You want me to take him home with me,” I say.

“Well, it’s the most logical choice. I can’t just let him keep lying here singing at the top of his lungs, can I?”

I suppose not. “Well, get him up and get him upstairs.”

Henry hoists Mick to his feet and Mick stumbles across the room toward the elevator.

“Careful, big guy,” Henry says.

Mick sings softly to himself as we go up the elevator. There are more dirty limericks and more innuendo, and I catch Henry laughing into his fist.

“I can’t believe you let him get like this,” I say, scolding Henry.

“I can’t help it if the boy can’t hold his liquor,” Henry says. Then he grunts as Mick falls over into his shoulder. He shoves him to stand him back up straight.

“Why were you even drinking with him?” I ask. “That’s the part I don’t understand.”

“We were talking about life and love and my Nan…” Henry’s voice goes quiet.

“And that involved liquor.”

Henry grins at me. “All the best stories do.”

“Well, I hope you’re happy with yourself. If he pukes on my floor, I’m going to make you clean it up.”

“He won’t puke,” Henry says.

We walk to my door and I open it.

“Oh, look at the time,” Henry says. “I have to get back downstairs.”

“Payback’s a bitch, Henry,” I mutter as he hastily retreats.

“You’re not a bitch,” Mick says. He belches into his closed fist. “You’re awesome and cool and you’re my BFF.” He reaches for the belt of my robe and I yelp as he undoes it. His eyes roam down my body, his voice husky. “And you’re hot in those little shorts.” He closes the robe back up and ties the sash. “Got to put the hot stuff away. Dangerous when you’re BFF-ing. Seriously danger to FFBs. Like, might put the moves on you dangerous. Can’t be doing that with the BFF.” He points to the couch. “Can I lie down?” He weaves a little.

“Go to my room. You can sleep in there.” I don’t have sheets on the beds in any of the other rooms.

“Do your sheets smell like you?” he asks as he walks into the room.

“I don’t know. How do I smell?”

“Like clean skin and sexy woman.” He reaches behind him and pulls his shirt over his head, and then shoves his jeans down to his shins. Then he falls back on the bed wearing nothing but his boxers, with his pants around his ankles, his shoes still on.

“Oh, good grief,” I say as I squat down and pull off his shoes. Then I pull his jeans off. “Up.” I tap his legs. He lifts them and slides beneath my covers.

He grins at me. “I see why you like Henry so much,” he says.

“And why is that?” I ask as I settle the covers over him.

“He’s a cool guy. And he loves you.”

My heart goes soft. “I love him too.” Even though he’s currently meddling in my life. I set a wastebasket next to the bed, just in case Mick gets sick. Then I turn to walk from the room.

“Where are you going?” Mick asks, his words slurry and undefined.

“To the couch.”

He shakes his head, but this causes him to groan and he clutches his forehead. “Don’t sleep on the couch. I promise I’ll behave. Come sleep with me. Please.”

“I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“Fine, I’ll get up,” he says. He starts to sit up.

“Why are you getting up?”

“Because I can’t let you sleep on the couch. I’ll go to the couch, or you can come and sleep with me.”

He moves to get up, but I stop him. What would it hurt to lie down next to him? Nothing.

I turn off the light, shrug out of my robe, and drape it on the stool at the end of the bed.

I stay on my side, but suddenly Mick groans and wraps an arm around my waist. He pulls me back against him, his front touching my back, and he holds me close.

“Mick,” I whisper.

“What?” he whispers back.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to sleep.”

“That’s all you’re doing?”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums. “Holding you and sleeping. That’s all I want to do.” He presses his lips to the top of my head. I can feel the pressure, but not the kiss, and I hear the noise his mouth makes. “Go to sleep.”

So, I do. I get comfortable, and I go to sleep with Mick’s arms wrapped around me. And I sleep better than I have in a very long time.