“Yeah, I’m here.” His voice is curt and cold. “So tell me about Tim.”

“Seriously, David?”

“What?” he grouches. “Have you seen you? Is it so terrible I want to keep you all to myself?”

Sipping down a mouthful of Pinot, I smile around the rim of the glass. “Don’t worry. I was wearing my I heart David Andrews T-shirt. You know the one that says ‘He’s a big strong scary fireman. Keep back 500 feet’ on the back,” I joke.

“Oh, good,” he plays right along. “I knew you’d get use out of that one.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Yep, I sure am. But you know what?” I can picture his dark brown eyes shimmering with humor, his face pulling into a wide and gorgeous smile.

“You’re my ass,” I answer him, loving that little inside joke.

“Damn straight, sweetheart. But Tim aside,” his name comes from David’s mouth sounding more like a curse than anything else, “the day was good?”

“It was perfect. I have a bunch of ideas to work on tonight and I’m really excited to be part of the team.”

“That’s great, babe. I’m really proud of you.”

“How about you? Did you get lots of studying in? Are you ready for Friday?” With his Lieutenant’s test looming, he’s been cramming like crazy. This means lots of time seeing David in his glasses and lots of time making out with him in his glasses.

“I did. Even had some time to take a practice test today, too. I think I’m as ready as can be.”

“Good, baby. I can’t wait to see you kick that test’s ass.”

“Okay. I need to get in gear if I want to beat the traffic. I’m on until tomorrow night and back for another tour Wednesday through Thursday. I had to pull a mutual to have the right time off for the test,” he explains. His job is so demanding, there have been a few weeks when we’ve barely seen each other. It’s not easy, but he loves his job and I love him so it works.

“Then I’ll see you Friday night for dinner. We’ll celebrate the test finally being over.” A devious smile splits my face thinking about how we’ll actually spend the time celebrating. “I’ll even cook for you.”

“Sounds perfect, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Be safe. I lo–” Stopping myself before the last of those three words fall from my lips, I nearly drop my glass of wine to the table.

“Grace.” My name sounds more like a question than a statement.

Playing it off as if that didn’t just almost happen, I say, “Yeah, who do you think you’ve been talking to?”

“Did you just start to say what I think you were going to say?”

Shrugging, I laugh at myself realizing he can’t see me. I consider saying no, but there’s no point in lying. But before I can admit it, he interrupts me.

“You know I feel the same way,” he admits, not actually saying the words.

“You do?” I gasp into the line, more than shocked at his easy admission.

“Of course I do, sweetheart.” I can hear the shyness in his words, but their meaning is in no way diminished by it. “But I won’t say them now. And I don’t want you to say them either.”

“Oh,” I sigh, dejected.

“When we say them, I want you to be in my arms, preferably naked. I want to be able to brush that beautiful red hair of yours out of your eyes so I can get lost in their depths when I tell you exactly how I feel about you. And if you say them now, I won’t be able to taste your sinfully sweet lips against mine. I’m not very good at delaying gratification, so until I see you again, just know I can’t wait to say them to you.”

Completely astounded by his confession, I smile into the line like a lovesick teenager. “I can’t wait either.”

“Something bothering you?” Tim asks around a mouthful of turkey sandwich. It’s the last day of the curriculum writing project, and since Tim and I worked through lunch most days, we decided an hour out of the building on a Friday afternoon would do us some good. Tim has been talking about this deli all week, so today we figured we’d go there.

Pulling my distracted stare away from the clock ticking on the wall, I shrug. “I’m fine. It’s just today is a big day.”

“Oh, really?” Wiping away the crumbs from his mouth, he turns in his seat. “How so? What’s going on?”

I’d like to say it’s because we’re the closest in age, or because we’ll be sharing a room that we’ve gotten along really well this past week. But the truth is that he’s a really nice guy and he’s been more than helpful. “It’s my boyfriend.”

In a look that rivals the one Ross gave Rachel whenever she mentioned Mark’s name, Tim’s eyes widen, his attention sharpening. “Everything okay with you two? Is something going on?” Trying my best to keep my focus solely on work the entire week, I haven’t brought anything up about David and his test today.

“Yes, we’re fine,” I snap—which is mostly unnecessary. It’s been a demanding week and not seeing David at all has only added to the stress mounting toward today.

Holding up his hands in a mock defense, he says, “Okay. Okay. Just checking.” After taking a sip of his drink, he pushes on, “So then what is it?”

The floodgates open and after rambling on about the Lieutenant’s test and how important it is to David, more information than I should say spills out of my mouth. “This is his dream job. Hell, it isn’t even a job for him. It’s his life.” Resting my elbows on the table, I hold my head in my hands.

“And?” Tim probes, not understanding what I’m getting at. “Then wouldn’t this promotion be a good thing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lifting my head, I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends. “But what if . . .” Not able to stomach the rest of that thought, I can’t find the words to bring it to life.

“Hey.” Tim calls my attention away from my dead stare at the table. “Listen. Is he any good at his job?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I clip. “Of course he is. He’s the best out there. Smart, careful. Don’t you dare–”

“No, Grace,” he interrupts. “What I mean is if he’s good at his job, the best in the field as you say he is, then you can’t waste your energy worrying about what might happen.” The knot of tension in my gut loosens a touch as he continues. “If you spend your life worrying about what could be, you’ll never leave yourself enough time to enjoy what is.”

His words need no contemplation. Their raw honesty hits me in the face with a revelation I should have been able to come to on my own. Because he’s right. Every second I worry about not having David in my life, about something happening to him, is a second I waste not loving the fact that he is in my life in a very real and loving way.

“I’m sorry for overreacting.” Offering him a lame smile, he accepts my apology. “Smart man,” I say, tapping the side of my head. “Where’d you read that one?”

Tim shakes his head. “That one’s all mine.”

“It’s good. You should hang it in your room or something,” I suggest.

“It’s painted on the wall actually. And it’s our room.” He smiles warmly at me, tipping his head at the clock. “Now hurry up. We don’t want to be late coming back from lunch.”

The rest of the day passes by in a blur. Nervousness and anxiety over not receiving a text from David when the test is over pulls my focus away from everything.

At three o’clock, we finally wrap up our last session. After sending an email to Principal Gallagher, outlining our progress, we all leave the building. The midafternoon sun is blinding and it’s broiling hot out. I make a mental note to schedule an appointment to have an auto-start installed in the car. It would be nice to walk into an already cooled-down car, but for now, I’ll have to deal with the scorching heat.

When I turn the key in the ignition, nothing happens. “Oh, great,” I groan over the rather horrid noise of my engine grinding. For whatever reason, call it morbid curiosity, I try turning the key again. Not shockingly, it still doesn’t work. Resting my head against the steering wheel, I curse the car gods.