“Name the time,” he says.

“I’m off on Sundays, so a Saturday night might be good.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” he says. “But we’re going slow.”

“I mean… that’s pretty slow if we’re counting from the first day we met. That puts a lot of years between meeting you and going on a first date with you.”

“Six o’clock?”

I smile. “Six is perfect.”

As soon as I say that, Atlas squeezes his eyes shut for two seconds. “Wait. I can’t tomorrow. Shit. We’re hosting an event; they need me at the restaurant. Sunday?”

“I have Emmy Sunday. I’d rather wait before bringing her around you.”

“I get that,” Atlas says. “Next Saturday?”

“That’ll give me time to line up someone to watch her.”

Atlas grins. “It’s a date, then.” He stands up and begins walking through his bedroom. “You’re off on Sundays, right? Can I call you this Sunday?”

“When you say ‘call,’ do you mean video chat? I want to be prepared this time.”

“You couldn’t be unprepared if you tried,” he says. “And yes, it’ll be a FaceTime. Why would I waste time with a phone call when I can look at you?”

I like this flirty side of Atlas. I have to bite my bottom lip for two seconds in order to hold back my grin. “Goodnight, Atlas.”

“ ’Night, Lily.”

Even the way he makes such intense eye contact while saying goodbye makes my stomach flip. I end the call and press my face into my pillow. I squeal like I’m sixteen again.

Chapter Nine Atlas

“Let me see a picture,” Theo says. He’s sitting on the back steps watching me pick up shattered glass and several bags of trash from the third incident, which occurred last night. Brad called this morning to let me know Bib’s was hit again. He and Theo met me here to clean it up, even though I told him not to worry about coming. I hate when my employees have to show up for anything on the only day of the week we’re closed.

“I don’t have a picture of her,” I say to Theo.

“So she’s ugly?”

I toss the box of glass into the dumpster. “She’s gorgeous and way out of my league.”

“Ugly would still be out of your league,” he deadpans. “She doesn’t have social media?”

“She does, but it’s set to private.”

“You aren’t her friend on anything? Facebook? Instagram? Do you even have a Snapchat?”

“What do you know about Snapchat? You don’t even have a phone.”

“I have my ways,” he says.

His dad comes back outside with a trash bag. He holds it open, and we start throwing some of the scattered garbage in it while Theo remains on the steps. “I would help, but I just took a shower,” he says.

“You showered yesterday,” Brad says.

“Yeah, and I’m still clean.” Theo focuses on me again. “Do you have social media?”

“No, I don’t have time for that.”

“Then how do you know her stuff is set to private?”

I’ve occasionally attempted to look her up online, and as much as I don’t want to admit that, I’m not sure there’s a person on this planet who hasn’t done a few Google searches on people from their past. “I’ve looked her up before. You have to have a profile and follow her to see her stuff.”

“So make a profile and follow her,” Theo says. “I swear, sometimes you make things harder than they need to be.”

“It’s complicated. She has an ex-husband who doesn’t like me, and if he saw that we were friends online it might become an issue for her.”

“Why doesn’t he like you?” Theo asks.

“We got into a fight. Here at the restaurant, actually,” I say, nudging my head toward the building.

Theo’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Seriously? Like a real fight?”

Brad straightens up. “Wait. That guy was Lily’s husband?”

“I thought you knew that,” I say.

“None of us knew who he was, or why you were fighting him. That was the only time we’ve ever seen you kick someone out of the restaurant, though. Makes so much sense now.”

I guess this is the first time I’ve talked about it since it happened. I remember I left for the night right after that fight with Ryle, so no one had a chance to ask me about it. When I came back to work the following Monday, people could probably read my mood and see that I still didn’t want to talk about it.

“What did you get into a fight about?” Theo asks.

I glance at Brad, because he’s aware of what Lily went through. Lily told him and Darin at my house. But Brad looks like he’s leaving it up to me whether or not I’m honest with Theo. I usually am about almost anything, but it’s not my place to share Lily’s business.

“I don’t even remember,” I mutter.

I do think this could be a good teaching moment with Theo about how never to treat a partner, but it’s a part of Lily’s life I don’t feel comfortable talking about without her present. It’s also a part of her life I shouldn’t have interfered with, even though I wouldn’t take it back if given the chance. As immature as my reaction might have been that night when I hit Ryle, I was holding back. I wanted to do more than just punch him. I had never been that angry at another human—not even my mother or stepfather. Not even Lily’s father.

It’s one thing to dislike someone for how they treat me, but it’s an entirely different kind of anger when the person I admire the most in this world is mistreated.

My phone begins to buzz in my pocket. I quickly pull it out and see that Lily is attempting to return my FaceTime from an hour ago. She was driving and said she would call me when she got home.

We’ve exchanged several texts since our chat on Friday, but I’ve been anxious to talk to her face-to-face again.

“Is that her?” Theo asks, perking up.

I nod and try to pass him on the steps, but he stands up and follows me into the restaurant.