We passed the Stoned Crab on the drive to Daniel’s, and I wondered why he hadn’t suggested we go back to his house to begin with. He lived much closer to the restaurant than I did.

Because he wasn’t thinking you were going to sleep with him tonight.

I wasn’t thinking it either until we’d started kissing. But there really was no reason to wait. Who knew what the future would bring? Carpe diem!

Don’t give me that carpe diem crap. You’re just terrified of sleeping with someone new and want to get it over with, preferably while drunk.

Yeah, that too.

Daniel drove up the steep hill that ran parallel to the ocean. It plateaued in the neighborhood everyone referred to as the Bluffs. The homes in this area were older than the homes in my neighborhood, but their proximity to the coastline made them much more valuable, even the ones that didn’t have ocean views.

Daniel pulled into the underground garage of a low-rise condominium, and we rode the elevator to the third floor in silence. I remembered looking at a rental in this building when Jonah and I had first moved to Santa Veneta. The complex was built in the early 1970s and I was expecting the same harvest gold kitchen countertops and ugly shag carpeting in the unit Jonah and I had viewed (and rejected). But Daniel’s apartment had been completely remodeled with hardwood floors, an updated kitchen, and recessed lighting.

“This is really nice,” I said, stopping at the quartz countertop breakfast bar adorned with three modern barstools.

“It’s nicer in the daytime,” he said. “It was the view that sold me on this place, and the fact I can ride my bike to the beach. Can I get you something to drink? Another coffee?”

I could use the caffeine since I was already getting sleepy. But my buzz was wearing off, and if I was going to go through with this, I needed more alcohol. “Do you have any wine?”

“Of course,” Daniel said and headed into the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of white out of a wine refrigerator and poured two glasses. It was sweeter than the wine we’d drank at the restaurant, but it tasted good. I took my wineglass into the living room and sunk down into the buttery leather couch. Daniel followed but he didn’t sit. “I’ll be right back,” he said, then disappeared down the hallway.

I took a long swallow of wine and tilted my head back.

I’ll just close my eyes for a minute…

When I opened my eyes, the sky outside the living room’s sliding glass door was light gray and I was curled up on the sofa, fully clothed except for my shoes, and covered with a chenille throw. I sat up and spotted the note on the coffee table.

Grace,

You fell asleep on the couch, and you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. Went for a bike ride but I’ll be back by eight. I’d love to take you to breakfast.

Daniel

“Oh god,” I said to the empty room. How could I let this happen? I wanted to sleep with him when I was drunk so it would be less awkward. Now I was going to have to sit across from him sober and pretend we weren’t both thinking the same thing?

I should just leave. If he thinks I’m rude and never calls me again, I’m okay with that.

Of course, he’s going to call you again. He’s going to want to finish what you started, you idiot. He’s probably hoping to get lucky this morning.

I was not feeling lucky. I was feeling hungover. I located my shoes and purse on the floor next to the couch and grabbed my phone. I was still searching Uber and Lyft for the closest driver when I heard a key in the lock and the front door opened. Daniel appeared in the entranceway in black bike shorts and a matching Lycra T-shirt.

“Good morning,” he said, way too cheerily. He dropped his bike helmet on the breakfast bar before moving to the open-concept living room, his cycling shoes click-clacking against the hardwood floor with each step. He stopped a few feet away from me, hands on his trim hips. “How’d you sleep?”

“I’m so sorry I fell asleep on you.” For a moment I wondered if he’d drugged me, but quickly realized that was a ridiculous notion. I was the one who’d suggested we come back to his place. Plus, I was still wearing all my clothes.

“Don’t be. The couch is super comfortable. I’ve fallen asleep on it many times.” Then he turned and click-clacked back into the kitchen. “You want anything to drink?”

“At this hour?”

He pulled a bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator and set it on the breakfast bar. “I was going to drink mine straight, but I could scrounge up some vodka if you prefer yours that way.”

I laughed. “Sorry, I misunderstood.” God, what must he think of me? “I’d love some water. And a couple aspirin. And you wouldn’t happen to have an extra toothbrush lying around, would you?”

“Indeed, I do.”

He handed me a tall glass of chilled water and I followed him down the hallway, but not the one he’d disappeared down the night before. This hallway was on the opposite side of the living room. He led me past a wall of cabinets to a bathroom with a bedroom directly across from it. From the open doorway I could see the foot of a neatly made bed and a desk with a computer on top.

“Home office,” he said, following my gaze, “and guest room. I thought about moving you in there last night, but you seemed content on the couch.”

“I still can’t believe I fell asleep on you.” I was mortified all over again.

“It’s all good. I was tired too.” Then he opened the cabinet closest to the bathroom and pulled out a toothbrush still in its plastic package and a tube of toothpaste still in the box. “I’ll go find you some aspirin,” he said and click-clacked down the hall again.

Weird. That was a lot of extra toiletries for a single guy. I wondered if he purposely kept a stock of toothbrushes and toothpaste on hand for women who spent the night. Although, presumably, those other women slept in his bed and not on the couch.

I was still brushing my teeth when he returned with a bottle of acetaminophen, which he placed on the vanity. “I’m going to jump in the shower. Then we can go to breakfast.”

I nodded, my mouth still full of minty foam.

Why had I just agreed? I had no desire to go to breakfast with him; I wanted to go home. I could still call an Uber. It wasn’t too late. But I couldn’t just sneak out while he was in the shower. I’d have to say goodbye first, and then he’d insist on driving me home, and then we’d be right back where we were last night.

I spit out my toothpaste and stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Other than the big black smudges of mascara under my eyes, my face didn’t look too terrible. My hair was another matter, but I could pull it back in a ponytail. What I really needed was a shower.

I pulled open the glass door and peeked inside the walk-in shower. There was no soap or shampoo but maybe he had extras of those in the hall closet too, along with some towels.

You could always shower with him.

I actually laughed out loud. Are you out of your mind?

It would make breakfast a lot less awkward if you got the s-e-x part out of the way first. Otherwise, you’ll be sitting there worrying about it the whole time.

Hmmm. Maybe not the worst idea I’d ever had.

I could hear the water running when I knocked on his closed bathroom door.

“Grace?” he called out.

The floor creaked as I slipped inside the steam-filled bathroom.

Daniel stuck his head out the side of the gray and white striped shower curtain. His hair was wet, but it wasn’t filled with suds, so either he hadn’t shampooed yet or he’d already rinsed. “What are you doing? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just thought you might like some company.”

“Company?”

Oh god, this was a mistake.

Chapter 7