Dylan parked in front of her cottage. Lauren kept rubbing her hands up and down the tops of her thighs. She had wanted to invite him to stay. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Then he through the door open and got out, the moment was lost.

Dylan came over to her side. Holding the door open for her. She came out shyly, nervous over her neediness. Was she projecting? She might be. Still the thought of being alone now terrified her more than her pride. She felt so at ease with him. Inside she would be alone and Muffin would be gone.

Dylan got her blanket and picnic basket. His shirt remained tucked in the back pocket of his pants. The rips and cuts of packed muscle over his chest, arms and back were harder to ignore. He turned walking toward her. He looked baked, exhausted. She couldn’t expect to put him through much more. It was silly to be so clingy to the man who was just being—a friend.

With each step she felt her legs buckle. The door loomed ahead, as if she were Alice In Wonderland shrinking before it. Lauren closed her eyes tight, and opened them again. The panic attacks, they were close, she felt the bitter stifling hold it had on her throat and gut. But she masked her discomfort. She was okay. She’d been okay with Dylan. This was silly.

He had her key. Somehow he passed it to her. Somehow she undid the lock and opened the door. Somehow it all happened the way it was supposed too despite the desperation causing her hands to shake. She recovered—somehow. She opened the door and held it open with her back for Dylan to enter. Somehow.