The next morning, people began to leave after breakfast. Quinn felt panicky as she watched Tina and Mike pack up their things and get into the taxi that would take them to the airport. It signaled the end of the week. The end of several things that she didn't want to say goodbye to.

"Have safe trip" she told Mike and hugged him.

The hug was loose and his arms barely reached around her back. Quinn wondered if he was still worried about making his wife worried by just touching her.

"You too" he said. "It was really nice seeing you again."
Tina was next. Their hug was even less comfortable. Quinn didn't even wish her a nice trip home. She liked to think she was better person now than in High School but right now she couldn't really muster up the will to be pleasant.

"You'll understand it one day" Tina said, making Quinn jump. "When you're married, you'll understand where I'm coming from."

Quinn bit her lip, trying to remain solemn and nod. She failed.

"Just because you're married?" she questioned Tina. "Just because you're a wife?"
"Yes" Tina said softly.

"I've been with Henry for years. Just because we're not married, I don't get it?"
"Come on" Mike said, intervening between them with a stiff smile. "Let's not leave on a sour note."
Both Tina and Quinn ignored him completely.

"Fine" Tina said, staring at Quinn with gaze Quinn guessed that she otherwise saved for scolding her children. "When you love someone like I love Mike, you will understand why I hate cheating."

"You think you love him more than I love Henry?"
She was promised not to talk about Henry this week, especially not when Puck was within hearing distance. But since she was clearly behaving disgracefully anyway, what was the harm?

"All I'm saying," Tina replied. "is that if you loved him as I love Mike, you wouldn't want or need to cheat."
The happy couple left after that and it changed the mood. Soon, the others would be leaving too. Quinn wasn't the only one feeling it, she could tell. It was the like the last week of summer, before school started, when you wear shorts and a tank top even though it's too cold, just because you don't want to let go of endless days in the sun yet.

"At least our last day is a sunny one" Sam sighed. "Anyone up for a swim?"
"You wish" Rachel smiled and handed him a cloth and spray bottle. "We have some cleaning to do."

…

The days passed in a whirl of chlorine, sweeping brooms and washing of sheets. Puck had forgotten about cleaning. He hadn't calculated with being forced to clean underneath the couch for two hours instead of holding Quinn's hand. It was wasteful use of their time together; cleaning rooms on different floors. It made him moody and annoyed.

"Lighten up, Puck" Mercedes told from the other side of the room. "Does your shoulder hurt? I'll can do the crawling around on the floor, if you want."

"Thanks" he replied. "But it's fine."

"Rachel's dads must be pedantic freaks" she sighed.

"Yeah" he replied.

They still had to vacuum and mop the floor after this. The sun was already high in the sky, it wasn't morning anymore. He would have gladly have paid a maid or whatever if it had given him the opportunity to sit outside with Quinn right now.

"You can go upstairs if you want" Mercedes said softly. "I'm sure they need a hand."

"Nah, I can't leave you all alone, can I?"
He smiled at her.

"There's only one vacuum cleaner" she shrugged. "You want to take turns?"
He laughed.

"Fine, I'll go up. Yell if you need anything."
He went up the stairs, listening for her voice amongst the sounds of chatter, music and running water. He could see Sam and Kurt cleaning the bathroom, both with disgusted looks on their faces. He peeked into a bedroom, the one where the girls had been sleeping and saw Rachel and Artie folding sheets. He tried another bedroom, the one where he had slept and there he found her. She was emptying out the air out of the air mattress by standing on top of it.

"Hey" he said. "You need any help with that?"
She looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't you like my method?"
"It's great" he replied smoothly. "But maybe it would go faster if I stood next to you?"
She shrugged. He took that as an invite and carefully stepped onto the already almost entirely deflated mattress.

"You need to come closer" she instructed him.

"You sure about that?"
"Positive."
He stepped a little closer, close enough that she could lean in and kiss him.

"Did you miss me?" she teased.

"No" he replied, placing his good arm on her waist. "Someone told me that you needed help. Apparently, more people distrust your ability to empty an air mattress."

"Hey" she said. "You said my method was great."
He kissed her this time. A long kiss. A kiss that he never wanted to end even though they were standing on an air mattress whilst Mercedes was vacuuming and Sam retching and Rachel singing loudly along to the radio. Or maybe he never wanted to end the kiss because of that.

"Our 48 hours are almost up" he said.

"I know."
There was nothing more she needed to say. Or no, that wasn't true. There were a lot of things. He realized that he was waiting for her to say them. For her to tell him that she had changed her mind, that 48 hours would turn into 48 years and that she was bringing him to New York with her. Or just that she was leaving Henry. Or… something. He craved so little and so much at the same time.

"All the air seems to be out" she whispered.

"What?"

"Our job is done. There's more no more air in the mattress."
"Oh" he said, looking down at their feet. "Right."

…

After lunch, more people began to leave again. Taxis pulled in and luggage was carried over the grass. Quinn hugged Kurt and Mercedes and the others goodbye and promised to see them again soon. She wanted to shake their shoulders and assure them that they really had to meet up again soon. She didn't because she wasn't Rachel.

"When's your car coming?" Puck asked her.

"Four" she replied.

"Right. You already told me that."
She nodded.

"When are you leaving?"
"Around three, I think."

He had already told her that too. At least five times. But she didn't know what else to say at this point. And yet, there were so many things they hadn't talked about yet.

"How's your mother?" Quinn asked. "Your sister? She's in college now, right?"
They both waved absently as the taxi containing their friends drove off before Puck replied.

"My mom?" he said. "She's fine. Did you know that she sold the house? Bought a smaller and nicer one just last year."
"I didn't know that. And Hannah?"
"Hannah's at college. The first one in our family to go. I think mom cries about at least three times a day."
Quinn nodded as they walked the short way back to the house. She had more questions. Too many. She wouldn't have time to ask them all.

"How about your family?" Puck asked. "Russell still up to his old tricks?"
"I wouldn't know" Quinn replied. "Haven't spoken to him in years. But mom's doing fine, she's remarried, did you know?"

"Yeah, mom told me. What do you think of your stepdad?"
Quinn shrugged. She hadn't visited Lima since Christmas two years ago and hadn't made that much of an effort to speak to Lawrence. He seemed nice though.

"Better than my real dad" she said and Puck laughed.

"That's not saying much" he added.

"No" she agreed. "But he seems to make her happy."
"Good."

"I have more things to ask you" she said. "I just can't think of any right now."
"You can email me" he joked.

"It won't be the same."
"Okay" he sighed. "I'll tell you everything. My balance in my account is-"
She laughed and put his hand over his mouth.

"I don't want to know that."

"Why not?" he said when she had pulled her hand away. "You already know that you're way richer than me."
"Technically, you probably have more money than me right now" she told him. "Student loans, remember?"

"Ah, right, those which are forcing you to stay at a job which you hate."

"I don't hate it" she replied automatically.

"You kind of hate it."
"Well, I don't even know if I have a job anymore since I haven't returned any of my boss's phone calls for days."
She tried to say it off-handedly, however, in reality, it really did worry her. And it worried her more and more as the time in the lake house was slipping away. In her real life, losing her job would really, really suck.

…

And then they were there. At the goodbye. At the hugs and promises and a honking cab in the drive way. She kissed him one last time and he insisted on kissing her again, one last time. She didn't cry. He didn't either. But he wasn't joking and she wasn't telling him to shut up. They just kissed, hand in hand, as if they were forcing each other to stay.

"Go" he told her.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to go" she said. "You were supposed to leave an hour ago."
Of course he hadn't been able to muster up the strength to leave at three. There had been too many things to talk about. Too much of her to touch. So now she was the one leaving him. Thematically, it was way more fitting anyway.

"Go" he said again.

Santana and Rachel were already in the car. If they didn't leave now, they would miss their flight.

"Are you sure you'll be okay driving with your arm?" she asked for the eighth time.

"Yes" he replied for the eighth time. "I swear."
She kissed him again, for the last time. The sweetest and cruelest of kisses. He let go of her hands.

"Go."

"Okay."

And she left. She got into the taxi and it drove off. Puck stood on the driveway of Rachel's dads lake house, all alone, and watched as the car disappeared. He wasn't ready. How could he be? How could he have thought that he would be? This didn't feel like seeing her with Henry that spring day all those years ago. This felt much, much worse.

…

She bought a pair of ugly sunglasses at the airport and cried behind them until the taxi dropped her off at her apartment in New York. Neither Santana nor Rachel said anything about the crying. They read magazines and tried to feed her cheap chocolate and held her hand in turns. Now as Quinn looked up at her apartment building, she dried her eyes on her cardigan and practiced her smile.

"Quinn!"

Henry looked up from his favorite spot on the leather couch as she stepped in. The prolonged crying had made her eyesight sort of blurry, but she could still see that he looked the same. The apartment looked the same. It smelt the same. Why wouldn't it? She had just been gone a week.

"Hi" she said, smiling as she stepped out of her shoes.

"Sit down" he said so she did.

"What are you reading?"
He closed the book he had in his hands.

"That's not important. I want to hear about your trip."
Quinn swallowed. She wasn't ready to deal with a confrontation right now. She felt too fragile. She had no more tears to cry.

"Really great" she spluttered. "It was nice to meet all my old friends again. I mean, Brittany opened her own dance studio and Mercedes-"

"I'm glad" he interrupted her. "But I'm even more joyed to have you back."
"Are you?" she whispered.

"Of course" he replied. "I love you."
He kissed her then. A Henry-kiss. It was very different from a Puck-kiss. Not that she was comparing.

"I love you too" she whispered.

"You must be exhausted, why don't I make us some tea?"

She nodded and he left for the kitchen. She couldn't be sure but it seemed like he didn't want to discuss anything. That they were supposed to act like the past week had never happened. Quinn didn't know how she felt about that. It wasn't like she wanted to talk about it or that there really anything to resolve. But Henry was a psychologist. He loved to talk, to dissect, to find the core to everything.

"Earl Grey?" he called out.

"Yes, thank you."
She pulled out her phone. No one had called her. No texts, either. They had said 48 hours and that was it. She just had a little hard time to readjust.

"Did you find time to study?" Henry asked as he handed her cup of steaming hot tea.

"Not really" she replied. "I just… enjoyed myself too much."

She could him frown at her words.

"Well-"

"I mean" she stammered. "we swam in the lake and Rachel had planned this stupid game and…"

She trailed off. Henry watched her closely with the look that had always made her feel like one of his clients.

"Calm down, Quinn" he said. "I'm not going to make you talk about him."

"Oh, okay."
"I am no stranger to infidelity" he said. "I cheated on my wife for years, if you remember."
She smiled weakly.

"Must have been a real slut" she said.

Henry nudged her shoulder lightly.

"If I had been more open with what I needed in my relationship to my wife or if she had been more accepting for my yearnings, we might not have divorced" he went on. "I love you, Quinn and I want to spend my life with you. I am not going to leave for falling for your desires. God, you're still so young. It's only natural."

She knew that he was just trying to make her feeling but instead she felt worse.

"I didn't even have sex with him" she said.

"You didn't?" Henry asked, looking more worried than relieved.
"No. I didn't want to do that to you."
Henry nodded. His work-nod. She recognized it so well. He was analyzing every look on her face, every tone of her voice.

"It must have been more than desire then, huh?" he asked.

She shrugged and drank her tea. Henry still examined her.

"I'm glad that you're back" he said finally.

"Me too."

Nothing had changed in week. Except Quinn herself.

…

The drive back to Detroit was long. Longer than he had remembered. Excruciatingly long. And this was despite the fact that Puck loved driving. If the traffic wasn't bad, he could drive for hours, listening to radio and not thinking. It had been one of his favorite past-times in High School. Sometimes he took girls along with him. Sometimes he had brought Quinn. Quinn. As the distance to her grew, the pain in his chest intensified. Up until the last second, some part of him had hoped that she would change her mind. She hadn't, she had left.

"You're back" Cindy said, stepping out of her apartment as Puck unlocked the door of his.

He jumped and wondered if she had been waiting for him. He hoped she hadn't.

"Yeah" he said.

"What happened to your shoulder?" she gasped, touching the ugly brace carefully.

He had to steel himself from pulling away from her. She was wearing a dressing robe and her hair was up in a knot on her head, but she wore makeup, perfectly applied. He recognized this look. It was the look she sported when she wanted to be invited over for a late night date. If it had been normal day, he would have jumped to the chance to not have to sleep alone. Now he felt disgusted just by thinking about it.

"Nothing" he said, smiling at her. "I'm fine."

"It doesn't look fine."

He swallowed and turned the key in the lock. It clicked and the door glided open. The hallway was dark. He wanted to step into that darkness and not come out again. His eyes were heavy.

"I swear I'm fine. I just need some sleep" he replied, his voice sounded much harder than he had intended.
"Oh."

"Do you have my mail?"

"Yeah" she mumbled. "Sure."

She disappeared into her apartment. He had been there a few times. It was the complete opposite from his, all frilly and colorful. His place was… bare. Empty shelves and dark colors. He just didn't care.

"Here" she said, handing him a few envelopes. "Looks like bills."
"Thanks, Cindy."

She nodded and then went back into her own apartment. He felt relief when the door closed behind her. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. Except… He pulled out his phone. No calls, no texts. She must be home now and she hadn't called. He wished that his brain would stop believing that she would. It made the pain double with every disappointment.

…

"How's your boring life?" Santana asked him over the phone the next day.

Puck was sitting at work, doing paper work since he couldn't really fix any cars right now with his shoulder. He was back on the painkillers today, hoping they would even out all the pain he was feeling.

"Boring, I guess" he replied. "How's your life?"
"I'm sleeping in" she said.

"Lucky you."

"Yeah" she said. "Got a matinee, though. Cross your fingers that more than four people show up."

He laughed and leaned back on the chair. It had been weird to get up at six and drive down to the shop today. Maybe it was because the passed with had been his first vacation in years. Maybe because he saw everything in a different light now. It all seemed duller, greyer, less appealing.

"Your flight was okay, then?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure. Quinn cried the entire time, but yeah."

"Did she?"

"Very stoically. Behind sunglasses and everything."
"Have you talked to her?"

"Since yesterday evening when we dropped her off? No. It's 11 am, Puck."
"Right."

"You could call her."
"No" he said. "I really can't. It wasn't part of the deal."

Santana clucked her tongue disapprovingly. At least she wasn't saying I told you so. Not yet anyway.

"I will call her tomorrow" Santana told him. "About the contract."

"Oh. I'll cross my fingers about that too."
"Thanks" she said and then waited a few seconds. "I'll try and decipher over the phone if she misses you."

"Don't" he sighed. "Just… don't."

"Okay."

There wasn't even a window in this office. Not that there would be much to see outside, but still. A window. How could there not be a window?

"Call me if you get lonely" Santana told him.

"That sounds like a booty call" he said.

"Well, if that's what you need. I'm wickedly good at phone sex."
He snorted.

"You should put that skill to use and call Brittany."

"Nah."

"No?"
"Maybe in a few days."
"Okay."
They were both silent. One of the guys was swearing loudly about a carbonator. Puck should probably go and help him.

"God, we had a lot of weird friends in High School, right?" she said.

He laughed. Yes. A lot of weirdos.

"And you're the weirdest" he told her.

She laughed too. They said nothing else about it. It wasn't really necessary.

"I'll call you tomorrow and tell you what Quinn sounded like."
"I told you not to do that."

"I know, but I know what you want me to anyway."

"Okay."

She hung up and Puck helped Steve with the car that was messing up their schedule. He ate lunch outside even though it was drizzling and that the outside was a factory parking lot. He checked flight rates to New York. He went back to work, went home, took a beer and fell asleep.

…

She missed him. That was her first thought when she woke up. She lay next to Henry on their bed and missed another man. The feeling of guilt was more powerful now. Just thinking about him, here in New York, in this bed, felt worse than kissing him at the lake house. She pulled on her pencil skirt and a white blouse. She pinned up her hair and colored her lips red. When she looked in the mirror, she looked like New York Quinn again. She wanted to feel like her. She didn't want to long for him.

Being at work threw her into the right state of mind again. It was like her brain had turned soft in a week and just stepping into the office sharpened it. She worked hard in order to forget about him. She spent her lunchtime cramming for the bar, just so that she wouldn't have to think about anything else. She walked home in her heels even though it took more than an hour, in order to gather herself before she would meet Henry again. It was a waste of time. She figured nothing out.

"It looks better" she told Santana over the phone. "It's not great, still, however."
"Nothing can be great" Santana replied. "I'm a nobody. I'm thankful for anything."
Quinn eyed the new contract again. Now Santana had a minimum three episode deal and if the show was not picked up by a network, she would be free to pursue other projects. She still had almost nothing to say and the role seemed superficial at its best, but Quinn wasn't a miracle worker.

"I'll scan it to you so you can sign it" Quinn said.

"Why don't you come over instead? I'm off tonight, we could eat dinner and watch some horrible TV."

Quinn looked around her apartment. Henry was grading papers at his desk in the corner of the living room. When he was done, he would make them dinner. Then he would read the paper and she would study. They might catch the late night news before going to sleep.

"I need to get up early tomorrow" Quinn said.

"I'm not saying we party or anything, just hang out. You can be home by nine if you want to."

Quinn never ventured outside the apartment when she had gotten home from work. It was a rule she never broke. She was silent company to Henry and could wear soft clothes as a break from her office outfit. But if she just sat here, she would think of Puck. In the quiet, her thoughts would seem ever louder.

"Okay" she said.

"Okay?"
"You don't need to sound so surprised."

"I'm not… Well, yeah, I am. But great. Come whenever you want. You can find the way, right?"
"I think so."

"Great. Rachel's doing a show tonight so we'll have the place to ourselves."

"Okay. I'll see you an half an hour then."
She hung up. Henry looked questionably at her.

"You're going out?"
"Yes" she said, suddenly feeling stupid. She never went out. "I need to get the contract to Santana."

"Oh, okay. I was thinking of making ravioli tonight."

"Oh."

"But it's fine, you should go."

She chose not to hear the martyr-like notes in his voice. He was a fifty year old man, he could manage to be alone for one night.

"I won't be back late."

"Good" he said. "I just want to spend some time with you. I've missed you, you know?"

"I missed you too" she said but wondered why he was still grading papers then.

If he had missed her that much, why wasn't he kissing her on the couch? Why hadn't he undressed her the moment she came back last night? His routine functioned perfectly without her.

"I mean, Santana's had you an entire week" he went on, smiling as if it was a joke. Quinn hoped that it was. "I've been without you."
"I'm sure you've been fine" Quinn said, going over to him and kissing his bearded cheek.

The hairs were grayer than she remembered. He looked older, didn't he? Maybe it was just the light.

"Of course I've been fine" he said. "However, I am better when you're here."
"How come?" she asked. "What difference do I make? I just sit here while you work."

He frowned at her. She looked away. At the dark walls of their apartment. His apartment. It was his things on the shelves, his books, his couch, the smell of him had etched in the walls. Hers hadn't.

"It's called companionship, Quinn" he said carefully.

"More like silence."
He stood up so that he stood next to her. He wasn't that much taller than her but the action forced her to look up at him instead of the other way around. He was all about signals and human behavior.

"What's going on, Quinn?" he asked.

"Nothing" she sighed, grabbing her purse. "I'll be back later."

He took her arm, not forcefully and the grip was loose but she halted anyway.

"Quinn, maybe you should stay so that we can talk this out."

"It's nothing" she said. "Everything's fine."
She stepped away from him and the hold of her arm slackened. He watched as she left. She felt horrible. And liberated.

…

"He didn't want you to go?" Santana asked, outraged. "He doesn't want you to see your friends?"
"It wasn't like that" Quinn hurried to say. "He just wanted to spend some time with me."

"Sure, but he also hates me. Right?"
Quinn didn't respond. She had promised herself that she wouldn't speak about the fight. However, as soon as they sat down the couch, words just spilled out of her. And Santana reacted just like Quinn had known that she would.

"I think that's unhealthy behavior" she said. "Keeping you locked up because he doesn't want to be alone."

"Let's just let it go."

"Quinn, it's okay to be angry with him."

"Yeah" Quinn said. "Yeah, I know, but I can't be when you are. I feel like I have to defend him."
Santana sighed.

"Okay. I'll be quiet. Tell me what you feel."
Quinn laughed.

"God, you sound a shrink. Maybe you and Henry have more in common than you think."
Santana made a gagging noise.

"Sorry" she then said. "Sorry, go ahead."

Quinn shrugged. It had been a long time since she had talked with anyone about Henry. No, actually, she had never done it. No one had ever understood their relationship which had made it impossible for her to talk about them without defending it. She always had to pretend that everything was fine in order to validate their love.

"He looks older now" she said simply.

"Older than what?"
"I don't know. Just older."
"You've always known that he's old" Santana said. "It's part of the reason you're with him, isn't it?"
"Is it?"
It was Santana's turn to shrug.

"I thought so. He will never pressure you for kids. He will never leave you for someone younger, 'cause you're the younger woman. He's intelligent, sophisticated, sure of himself. I thought that appealed to you."
Quinn smiled sadly.

"You know me better than I give you credit for."
Santana smiled back, proudly. She offered Quinn a cookie. Rachel had baked them which meant that they were wheat free and vegan, but Quinn took one anyway.

"I wonder if his wife had the role I have" she said. "If she was the silent companion too."

"It's not like you just sit and wait for him" Santana argued. "You do things too. You're not his housewife."
"No" Quinn agreed. "No. He would hate if I was his housewife."
"And you would hate it too."

"Yeah, I would really hate it."

She took another cookie. They didn't taste so bad. Santana had finished a glass of red wine. Quinn had declined. She had to keep her head clear for tomorrow. And for this conversation.

"I will probably get used to it again" she said. "It's not fair comparing our normal life to a week's vacation.
"Yeah" Santana agreed. "But if he doesn't make you happy…"
"I've only felt like this for a day. I've been with him for like five years."
"Sure."

"And… it's not like I'm a super fun person to be around in the evenings either. I'm usually beat and tired and have to study and…"
She trailed off. The guilt heightened again. God, she was a horrible person.

"God, I'm a horrible person" she said. "I cheat on him with another man for an entire week and when I return, I have the nerve to complain about him?"
Santana laughed.

"Well, if you put it like that."
Quinn buried her face in her hands. She felt like throwing up the cookies. She felt like going home and sitting on the couch next to Henry. She felt like telling him she was sorry and that she would be on the couch with him forever.

"Maybe you can talk to him about it" Santana suggested. "Tell him that you want to spend more time with him; time when you're actually speaking, I mean."

"I can't criticize him after what I did."
"I get it."
Quinn swallowed and in order to change the subject, she pulled up the contract from the bag. Santana signed it with a red pen.

"Congratulations, Santana Lopez" Quinn said. "I guess you'll be going to LA very soon."
"I'll send you a postcard."
"Please do."
"Do you want to leave?" Santana asked softly. "Do you want to go home and make up to him?"
"Yeah, is that okay?"
Her friend nodded. Quinn took the next subway home. She sprinted up the stairs and unlocked the door. The apartment was dark except from the light from the TV. Henry sat on the couch, reading the leisure section of the paper while PBS was on the background. He looked up when she closed the door behind her.

"Hey" she said. "I'm back."
"I see that" he said. "Come sit."
She did. She leaned her body into his and drew in his scent. She kissed his graying cheek. She kissed his mouth. She took the paper and folded it and put it away. She kissed him again.

"Quinn" he said.

"I missed you too" she whispered, kissing him harder and fiercer because that was the way she had kissed Puck.

"Quinn" he said again. "I'm not really in the mood."
She froze.

"Oh" she mumbled. "Sorry."
She let go of him and gave him back the paper. Her cheeks burned with shame, with rejection.

"I don't want to make love just because you feel bad about leaving" he explained.

"I came back because I wanted to be with you."
"Be with me then" he said. "Sit here with me."

"Okay."
She did. Even if she hadn't really felt like having sex herself, she felt the pain of rejection in every vein. She was a girl half his age. She was pretty, she knew that. And she wanted him, still, after five years. But he didn't want her. She wondered if his wife had felt like this.

…

He went out with Steve from work to a bar just a few blocks from the shop. His shoulder still ached but it rewarded him with sympathetic girls. He bit back the impulse to tell them to leave because he felt lonely. Lonelier than he ever had before. One girl stayed longer than the others. He bought her a drink, she bought him the next round. The ache in his shoulder and the repulsion towards her lessened with alcohol in his system. They made out in the bathroom and then walked the short way to her apartment. She looked nothing like Quinn, smelled nothing like her, sounded nothing like her. They had sex on her bed but he was too drunk to remember much of it. He stayed with her until he sobered enough to hate her again.

"Call me" she said.

"I won't" he said.

"Ouch."

"It's really not you."

He left her on the bed and went back to his car. He was still too drunk to drive and Steve was gone. Instead of sleeping in the car, he let himself into the auto shop office. He pulled out his phone and called her up. He just wanted to hear voice, to just hear her say hello. Then he would hang up. That wasn't against the rules, was it? She didn't pick up and he was forwarded to an automatic answering machine. He hung up. It was three o'clock. Of course she wouldn't answer. She was in bed next to her partner. Puck threw up in a dustbin.