Two people, one feed.
Sybrina and Shaun, in the months before the book begins. Read in any order; pay attention to the dates.
I Did Not Step Back
7:14 AM. Cold coffee on the counter and another cup in his hand. The voice he has known for forty-eight months had a body for the first time on Monday. Yesterday afternoon her hand came up to the side of his face.
I Noticed
Two years and four months of calls with the consultant from Atlanta. A cardigan he has seen eleven times. A drawer marked Not Now.
Already Counting
A Tuesday night Zoom from an Atlanta apartment two years and four months after the LAX drive. Headphones on, second cup of coffee, the first time her voice arrives in his ear.
Eight Rotations
Two thousand four hundred square feet that has never been smaller. Jake's speakerphone laugh in eight rotations. A meditation app she has never opened.
One Green Checkmark
Thursday afternoon, the first Atlanta deliverable goes out. One client. One green checkmark. A floor he sits on to read because the couch can wait.
She Wanted to Drive Me
Marcus's car, the 405 empty at 5:40 AM, one suitcase, a red-eye to Atlanta, and a curb hug he would not have survived.
Vinyl Letters by Wednesday
Sunday morning in West Hollywood, single-origin coffee for two, a vinyl-letter door going up Wednesday, and a 2 AM thought he overrides in the same paragraph.
Agreeable Gray
An empty house mid-renovation, an Agreeable Gray bedroom she let happen, and a closet she did not.
I Am Very, Very Happy
Tuesday night in the Hoboken condo, an Atherton deck the partners will not have notes on, and the schedule that works.
All the Time in the World
Thank-you notes from the Hoboken condo, a Le Creuset Dutch oven, a KitchenAid that lives on the floor when she cooks, and a cassoulet she hasn't yet learned to make.