I stare into my second cup of coffee. Bits of steam rise off the top, caressing the air like the soft touch of a gentle hand and — Oh, my God. Am I really getting turned on by a goddamn cup of coffee?

Get your shit together, Nathaniel.

It was just a kiss.

The best kiss I’ve ever had but do try not to focus on that detail. Maybe focus on the fact that she’s married. To a jerk. But still lawfully wedded. Yes, she’s legally bound to a man who ignores her every need. It’s understandable why she just needed a shoulder to cry on and a hand to hold... and place on her breast while you shove your tongue down her throat.

Oh, hello, Square One. Nice to see you again.

“What’s gotten into you?”

I blink out of it and look at my mother across the table. “Nothing,” I answer.

She squints at me with suspicion. “You look antsy.”

“I’m not antsy,” I say.

“You’re fidgeting.”

I force my ankle to stop bouncing. “No, I’m not.”

“You on the pot again?”

I scoff. “I wish.”

She raises her own mug and takes a slow, careful sip.

I glance at the clock. A quarter past five. Come on, Myers, give me something to latch onto other than the same, blissful memory replaying itself over and over again my for the last thirty-six hours...

Finally, the back door opens and Will steps inside, his hands covered with a thin layer of black grease and dirt.

I lurch forward. “What’d you find out?” I ask.

Mom grabs an old dish rag off the sink and hands it to Will.

“Thanks,” he says to her as he wipes his fingers. “Well, it looks like your alternator is busted.”

“Cool,” I say. “Fix it.”

Will turns up his hands. “Do I look like I carry a spare alternator on me?”

“Why didn’t you come prepared, Mr. Mechanic?”

“Nate, you called me at four-thirty in the morning. I have a five-month-old daughter at home. You’re lucky I even answered the phone at all before Jovie had the chance to fling it against the wall. I’ll call Marv for a tow, we’ll get you looked at some time today. Hopefully, you’ll be up and running again by the weekend.”

I glance at the clock. “I’m already a half-hour late on deliveries. What am I supposed to do?”

My mother snickers into her coffee mug.

I glare at her, my guts falling. “Oh, come on.”

“We keep it as a back-up for a reason,” she says.

“To humiliate me even more?”

“No, for the days when the truck goes belly up and the people still need their milk.”

I groan.

“It’ll be all right, honey. Just think of it as a bit of exercise.” She pokes my shoulder. “Beef up those skinny legs.”

Will smirks as he pretends to focus on cleaning his knuckles.

I lean down and slam my forehead against the kitchen table.

* * *

Well, I can’t say I didn’t get what I wished for.

I’m definitely not replaying that memory anymore.

No, I’m pedaling my ass off because our backup vehicle is a damn carrier tricycle. One wheel behind me and two in front with a large cooler mounted between them.

I look fucking ridiculous.

No wonder my grandfather had legs made of solid steel. They didn’t upgrade to the refrigerated truck until my father was in high school. I can only think of two instances in my young life when I had to venture out in this thing and I hated it then just as much as I do now.

The sensitive, doting housewives of last week now frown at me with bitter, annoyed eyes. Most of them, thankfully, take notice of my sweat-drenched clothing and tired eyes and throw on an understanding smile. Shit happens, right? The others...

Eh, screw ‘em.

There was just enough room in the large cooler mounted on the front to carry all the bottles I need for my Wednesday drop-offs. Nothing more and nothing less. Luckily, the bike feels lighter with each bottle I take out and by the time I reach the end of my orders, I’m light as a feather. My legs will probably feel stiff as boards tomorrow, though.

I ride over Main Street for the last time on my route and pass by Marv’s Auto Repair on the corner. My milk truck sits in line behind two sedans and a mini-van. Will said he’d try and bump it up on the list and he better follow through. There’s no way I want to ride this Cold War-era monstrosity around town twice.

“Lookin’ good, milkman!”

A car honks deep in the auto garage. I raise a hand, giving them a dull wave and laughter echoes off behind me as I disappear out-of-sight onto First Street.

I come to a stop mid-street and snatch the last few bottles out of the cooler. My thighs burn as I walk from house-to-house, silently dropping and bolting on to the next.

The morning breeze cools my face. I turn my head up to catch a bit of the morning sun between the houses. It’s a beautiful day, to be honest. Birds chirping. Wild blowing. And yes, I’m doing everything I can right now not to think about the black cloud of naughty guilt and blissful shame staring at me from the end of the street.

The VanHouten house.

Kimber.

She was gone yesterday. I might have passed through on my way to the grocery store to grab some totally necessary soda I just had to have right at the time I knew Curtis would be gone at work. That kiss kept me up all night. Twice.

I had to know if she felt the same way.

But, turns out, she and Jovie went to Will’s sister’s house for a book club meeting. I wasn’t about to risk looking like some weird stalker freak by going over there, though. Also, Sara hates my guts. To be fair, Sara hates everybody, but especially me.

I hit the sidewalk and head toward the back of the house. My heart pounds harder with every stiff, aching step that hits the pavement.

What’s going to happen when I reach that back door?

Will it be closed but unlocked like the other day? Will it be open? Is she waiting for me with that sweet smile? My mind runs wild for a few greedy seconds. Kimber in my arms. On that table. A moan on her tongue. She says my name in that perfect way…

The back door comes into view and I pause. Two empty bottles sit on the stoop. She remembered today.

Kimber never remembers to put her empties out. But she remembered today.

I set the last two fresh bottles down beside them. Did she remember on purpose? Did she put them out here to avoid me?

I touch the doorknob, hesitating for a moment before slowly turning it but it’s stuck in place.

She locked the door.

I exhale as that fantasy vanishes from my head.

Okay. I guess she doesn’t feel the same way after all.