The sound of a flushing toilet startles me awake. I’m lying on my stomach, fully dressed and on top of the covers. Fisher isn’t in the bed. It’s dark in the room, but I can see a little from the streetlight shining through the curtains as well as from the light under the bathroom door. I rub my eyes. I must have fallen asleep.
“Hey,” he says as he walks back toward the bed.
I push up into a sitting position, still rubbing my eyes.
“Sorry about that,” he says shyly. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “You were cute.”
He lies down next to me and pulls the covers over his legs and waist. “That’s not how I remember it.”
“I guess I should go. What time is it?”
“It’s 3:00 a.m. I don’t want you driving home this late. Will you stay? I promise to behave myself.”
I smile and nod. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Do you mind if I borrow a shirt?”
“Take anything you want. Top drawer.” He tightens his grip on his pillow, pushing it into a ball under his head.
I pull out the first shirt on top and go into the bathroom to change. After I pee, I take a look in the mirror. My makeup is smudged all over my face. I look like a whore from eighteenth century France.
I do my best to wash my face and change out of my clothes. I’m thankful his T-shirt is too big for me and covers enough to make me feel okay about walking back to him.
I place my clothes on the chair and walk back to the bed. His eyes are closed. I do my best to carefully pull back the covers on my side and he stirs awake. Noticing what I’m trying to do, he reaches over and helps me pull them back. I slide inside and in an instant I feel the heat of his body next to me. He’s so warm.
“Your feet are cold,” he whispers as he pulls me closer.
“I know. They always are.”
“That’s good to know.” He’s groggy and adorable.
He spoons me from behind. His warm breath fans my hair and I smile as I close my eyes. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
I squint as I open my eyes to daylight. Fisher isn’t in bed and I’m sad. I must have been sleeping harder than usual.
I roll over as he steps out of the bathroom wearing jeans and no shirt. By the steam in the air I can tell he’s freshly showered. He’s brushing his teeth, but it doesn’t stop him from smiling at me. “G’ morning.”
“Hi.”
He spits in the sink and walks over to me, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Did you sleep okay?”
I nod.
“You aren’t a morning person, are you?”
“No, but apparently you are.”
He smiles. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please. What time is it?” I sit up and he hands me a cup.
“It’s a little after six. I have to be on set by seven.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll get up and drive you.” I slide my legs out the side of the bed and remember I’m only wearing his shirt and my underwear when the cold air hits my legs.
“No, I can Uber. I’m sure you need to get to work too.”
I nod and slide back under the covers.
He watches me briefly and then walks over to the closet and starts putting on a button-down shirt. “Sorry I got so drunk last night.”
I smile. “It was interesting.”
“I came on pretty strong, huh?”
“You were hard to resist.”
“Oh yeah?” He slides onto the bed and over to me. “Then why did you?”
“Because I wanted you to remember our first time.”
“I remember everything from last night.”
“Okay, I wanted you to be fully present.”
“Hmm . . . you may have me on that one. But it was still fun. Thank you for staying. It was nice waking up to you.”
He’s doing that smoldering thing again and I want to kiss him, but I’m certain my morning breath would wilt his eyeballs. I smile and sip my coffee. “So, there’s this thing on Saturday.”
“What thing?” he asks as he puts on his socks.
“I’m a big supporter of this charity group that raises money for autism awareness. Anyway, once a year, they have a benefit gala and auction. It’s this Saturday. I usually go alone every year, but I was wondering—”
“I’m in.”
“What makes you think I was going to ask you to go with me?”
“Weren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then I’m in. What time does it start?”
“Seven.”
He pulls out his phone and starts flipping through emails. “Shit. Well, I’m working that day, but I should be done by five. That’s okay, right?”
I nod and straighten the sheets.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing?”
“Did I upset you?”
I curl my lip slightly and shake my head. “No, you were perfect.”
“Then why do you look so sad?”
“I, uh . . . I’ve never had a date for them. Usually, I just stand around and watch the couples dance. Sometimes I hang out with Luna and her man du jour. But mostly, I feel really alone.”
“Didn’t your ex go with you?”
“No. He said it was boring. He always had an excuse for why he couldn’t make it.”
“Well, you’re my girl now and I’ll be damned if you don’t have someone to dance with all night long.”
I stare at the blanket as I allow his words to sink in.
He slides on his shoes and puts his wallet in his pocket. He checks his phone briefly and puts that in his pocket as well. “I have to go. Take your time. Stay as long as you want. I’ll call or text tonight. Let me know when you get to work so I know you’re safe.”
I nod.
He kisses the top of my head and then walks out the door.
I sigh as I gaze around his room. I slip out of the bed and walk over to the bathroom sink. I lift his cologne and smell it. My knees go weak. I spray it on the T-shirt I’m wearing and decide I’m taking the shirt home with me.
As I grab my clothes off the chair, I see my book on the dresser. Sure enough, there are Post-it tabs sticking out the edges. I open my purse for a pen and flip the paper to the title page where I write, “Fisher, reality is better than fiction when I’m with you. Xoxo, Macy Greer.”
A part of me wants to go through all of his things, but I decide against it. I won’t be that girl. Instead I freshen up, put on my bra and skirt, and head home to shower. Before I leave I reach into my purse and pull out a small bottle of my perfume. I spray it on his pillow so he thinks of me. There are some things we women have to do. That was one of them.