I drove too fast, all night long. I only stopped a few times. I made it to the door of his condo in eleven and a half hours. I took a quick look at my watch before I knocked on the door. It wasn’t quite noon.
When it opened, Michael just stood there, his eyes searching my face. Finally he stepped back and I went in. The den looked like a bomb had gone off, books knocked off the shelves, a shattered cup on the floor, chair overturned. Obviously he’d gone on a rampage.
“I made a mess,” he said. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, and paced.
I dropped my duffel bag on the floor and set down my laptop bag. I grabbed a fist full of his shirt and hauled him into my arms. He put a hand against my chest like he was going to push me away, then buried his face on my shoulder. I held him ti
