27

“My answer to that question is always yes.”

The app on her phone told me we were only a few minutes from her place. “I know you just moved in. Do you have food in your apartment?”

“I haven’t been grocery shopping yet.” She laughed. “But ask me if I have tequila and wine because, of course, I have plenty of both.”

“Priorities.”

She lifted her cup out of the holder. “And coffee—I couldn’t survive without it.”

“What are you craving?”

“Pancakes.” Her stomach made a noise again, and she patted it. “I stumbled upon this little restaurant the other day that’s about a block away. They have the world’s best pancakes.”

“Let’s go.”

“Now?”

I slowed as the light turned red. “Why not?”

“I suppose I could delay my unpacking for an hour or so.” She glanced down at her lap. “But I can’t go like this. I have to change; I look like a walk of shame.”

“We’ll fix that.” Her building came into view, and I pulled over, parking a few spots from the entrance. “Do you want to go up and change, and when you come