Chapter 21: Her Door

Nikki's spare room was nine feet wide and smelled of bread.

It sat above the bakery, with a slanted ceiling and one round window, and Nikki had cleared a shelf for my books.

I carried in two boxes on Saturday and Mitch carried in six.

He set the last one down and stood in the middle of the floor with his hands at his sides.

"That's everything," he said.

"Thank you."

"You want me to stay for lunch?"

"I want you to go home," I said gently, "and I want you to not text me for a day."

He took it without a flicker.

"All right."

"It isn't a punishment."

"I know." He pushed his hair back. "You said you want to come to me because you want to. I'm not going to hurry you."

He went down the stairs, and I heard him say goodbye to Nikki in the shop.

Then I lay on the narrow bed and stared at the slanted ceiling and missed him so much it was ridiculous.

I lasted nineteen hours.

At noon on Sunday, a truck pulled up in the alley.

I looked out the round window.

Mitch was backing the tailgate to the side door, and there was something long under a canvas tarp.

He saw me at the glass, and he did not wave.

He went in the side door with Nikki holding it for him, grinning, and I heard him on the stairs.

I opened my door before he knocked.

"I said a day."

"It's been nineteen hours."

"Did you count?"

"Yes."

He carried the thing into the room and set it down under my round window.

He pulled off the tarp.

It was a table made of cherry, with a low shelf and a slim drawer.

The top was planed perfectly smooth.

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