Since my mother was spending the weekend with Dennis, I had the house to myself. My left Achilles was sore, so I skipped my normal morning run and was having my second cup of coffee Sunday morning when the doorbell rang. I peeked out of the front window, surprised to see Alex standing on the front porch. He was dressed in a pair of khaki cargo shorts, a white T-shirt, and flip flops. Even dressed like someone headed to the beach, he still looked beautiful…so beautiful that I almost didn’t open the door because I feared I’d do something stupid and embarrass myself.
“What do you want?” I asked. I felt like a slob dressed in the ratty pair of pajama pants and an old Race Against Hate T-shirt I’d slept in. Sleeping by myself again had, unfortunately, a negative impact on what I wore to bed at
