“Oh, God,” I mutter under my breath.

“Yes, he is a god,” Allysa whispers.

What is he doing here?

And why does he look like a god? It makes the decision I’ve been weighing that much more difficult. I can’t even find my voice long enough to say hello to him. I just smile and wait for him to reach us, but the walk from the door to the front counter seems like it’s expanded by a mile.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he makes his way over. When he reaches us, he finally acknowledges Allysa with a smile. Then he looks back at me as he sets a plastic bowl with a lid on the counter. “I brought you lunch,” he says casually, as if he brings me lunch every day and I should have been expecting it.

Ah, that voice. I forgot how far it reaches.

I grab the bowl, but I don’t know what to say with Allysa hovering next to me, watching us interact. I glance at her and give her the look. She pretends not to notice, but when I don’t stop staring at her, she eventually yields.

“Fine. I’ll go flower the… flowers.” She walks away, giving us privacy.

I turn my attention back to the lunch Atlas brought. “Thank you. What is it?”

“Our weekend special,” Atlas says. “It’s called why are you avoiding me pasta.”

I laugh. Then I cringe. “I’m not avoid…” I shake my head with a quick sigh, knowing I can’t lie to him. “I am avoiding you.” I lean my elbows onto the counter and cover my face with my hands. “I’m sorry.”

Atlas is quiet, so I eventually look up at him. He seems sincere when he says, “Do you want me to leave?”

I shake my head, and as soon as I do, his eyes crinkle a little at the corners. It’s barely a smile, but it causes a warmth to tumble down my chest.

Yesterday morning when I ran into him, I said so much. Now I’m too confused to speak. I don’t know how I’m supposed to have a full-on conversation with him about everything that’s been going through my mind over the last twenty-four hours when I feel so tongue-tied around him.

He had the same impact on me when I was younger, but I was more naïve back then. I didn’t know how rare men like Atlas were, so I didn’t know how lucky I was to have him in my life.

I know now, which is why it terrifies me that I might screw this up. Or that Ryle might screw this up.

I lift the bowl of pasta he brought. “It smells really good.”

“It is good. I made it.”

I should laugh at that, or smile, but my reaction doesn’t fit the conversation. I set the bowl aside. When I look at him again, he can see the war in my expression. He counters with a reassuring look. Not much is said between us, but the nonverbal cues we’re trading are saying enough. My eyes are apologizing for my silence over the last twenty-four hours, he’s silently telling me it’s okay, and we’re both wondering what comes next.

Atlas slides his hand slowly across the counter, closer to mine. He lifts his index finger and skims it down the length of my pinkie. It’s the smallest, most tender move, but it makes my heart flip.

He pulls his hand back and clenches his fist as if he might have felt the same thing I did. He clears his throat. “Can I call you tonight?”

I’m about to nod when Allysa suddenly bursts through the door to the back, wide-eyed. She leans in and whispers, “Ryle is almost here.”

My blood feels like it freezes in my veins. “What?” I don’t say that so she’ll repeat it. I say it because I’m shocked, but she repeats herself anyway.

“Ryle is pulling in. He just texted.” She waves a hand toward Atlas. “You have ten seconds to hide him.”

I’m sure Atlas can see the absolute fear in my expression when I look at him, but he very calmly says, “Where do you want me?”

I point to my office and rush him in that direction. Once we’re in the office, I second-guess myself. “He might come in here.” I cover my mouth with a shaky hand while I think, and then point to my office supply closet. “Can you hide in there?”

Atlas looks at the closet and then looks at me. He points at the door. “In the closet?”

I hear the front door chime, and I’m filled with even more urgency. “Please?” I open the closet door. It isn’t the most ideal place to hide an actual human, but it’s a walk-in closet. He’ll fit just fine.

I can’t even look him in the eye when he moves past me and into the closet. I could die right now. This is so mortifying. All I can do is murmur, “I’m so sorry,” as I close the door.

I do my best to compose myself. Allysa is chatting with Ryle when I exit my office. He greets me with a nod, but his attention is back on Allysa. She’s digging through her purse for something.

“They were in here earlier,” she says.

Ryle is tapping his fingers impatiently.

“What are you looking for?” I ask her.

“Keys. I accidentally brought them with me, and Marshall needs the SUV to get his parents from the airport.”

Ryle looks irritated. “Are you sure you didn’t set them aside when I told you I was coming to get them?”

I tilt my head, focusing on Allysa. “You knew he was coming?” How could she forget to tell me he was on his way here when Atlas showed up?

She reddens a little. “I got sidetracked by… unexpected events.” She holds up her hand in victory. “Found them!” She drops them in Ryle’s palm. “Okay, bye, you can leave now.”

Ryle makes a move like he’s about to go, but then he turns and sniffs the air. “What smells so good?”

His and Allysa’s eyes meet the bowl at the same time. Allysa pulls it to her, cradling it. “I cooked lunch for me and Lily,” she lies.

Ryle raises an eyebrow. “You cooked?” He reaches for the bowl. “I have to see this. What is it?”

Allysa hesitates before handing him the bowl. “Yeah, it’s chicken… baraba doula… meat.” She looks at me and her eyes are wide. She is such a horrible liar.

“Chicken what?” Ryle opens the bowl and inspects it. “It looks like shrimp pasta.”

Allysa clears her throat. “Yeah, I cooked the shrimp in… chicken stock. That’s why it’s called chicken barabadoulameat.”

Ryle puts the lid back on and looks at me with concern as he slides the bowl across the counter back to Allysa. “I’d order pizza if I were you.”

I force a laugh, but so does Allysa. Both of us laughing makes our reaction seem way too compulsory for a joke that wasn’t even funny.

Ryle’s expression narrows. He takes a couple of steps back, a suspicious look in his eye. He must be used to the two of us having inside jokes that he isn’t a part of, because he doesn’t even question us. He spins and walks out of the flower shop in a rush to get the keys to Marshall. Allysa and I both stand as still as statues until we’re sure he’s left the building and is way out of earshot. Then I look at her incredulously.

“Chicken barbawhat? Did you just completely make up a new language?”

“I had to say something,” she says defensively. “You stood there like a lump! You’re welcome.”

I wait a couple of minutes to make sure Ryle has had time to leave. I walk out front to ensure Ryle’s car is gone. Then I regretfully walk into my office and head to the supply closet to inform Atlas he’s in the clear. I exhale before opening the door.

Atlas is waiting patiently, his arms crossed as he leans against a shelf, as if being hidden in a closet doesn’t bother him in the least.