It was Friday, and Gabrielle, Rachel and I were having our weekly after-work drinks at a bar we had chosen for its strategic location at almost the same distance from each of our offices. The bar was full of other people celebrating the start of the weekend, and I was glad to have been able to get out of the office early - we had the prime seats (and our usual seats, to be fair) by the window.

Rachel brought over three glasses of beer and a big, proud smile. "See that guy in the striped shirt, over by the glass door? He totally just asked for my number."

Normally it was Gabrielle who was out there chatting up guys, and girls sometimes, but she was staying behind today and commiserating with me over my failed date. We both subtly high-fived Rachel, congratulating her on having scored a potential new love interest, and briefly interrogated her about him before Gabrielle reverted to our previous topic of conversation.

"Honestly though, Emma, it could mean anything. He didn't actually say he didn't want to stay, did he?"

"He might as well have," I scowled.

"There could be tons of reasons. Maybe he just got out of a relationship. Maybe he really did have to get up super early. Or maybe he's actually a decent guy who wants more than sex. Or... maybe he's just a dick."

Rachel gulped down a big sip of beer and nodded. "Why don't you just text him to ask?"

I laughed scornfully. "There's no way I'm texting him. You know, ever." I'd had a couple of hours after Noah had left to lie awake and stew, and then the whole next day at work to check my phone for messages that wouldn't come and then chastise myself for that. Last night, I'd decided to forget about him altogether. If he was going to leave like that and then not bother to send me a single message, I'd definitely not spend another second pining for him. The only reason I was talking to my friends about him, I told myself, was that I hadn't given them any details about the date yet and they were dying to hear more.

I hadn't told them much, though. Nothing about how good it had been until he had suddenly been such a jerk. Just a tiny bit about that unreal make-out - even though there was no way he would know, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. And I definitely, definitely wouldn't tell them about that incandescence that he seemed to exude in the heat of the moment. They wouldn't believe me, they would tell me I had imagined it, but I was convinced I hadn't.

"Yeah, no. Let him think about what he's done," Gabrielle agreed. "He'll come back to you, I'm sure. If he doesn't, good riddance."

"What did he cook for you, anyway? Was it any good?" Rachel inquired.

"Italian," I said, rolling my eyes as if that was in any way something ridiculous. "Can we stop talking about this? Rachel, how's your sister doing? Has she finally finished her thesis?"

Rachel and Gabrielle exchanged a look but acquiesced, and we spent the next couple of hours talking about anything but Noah.

For the next two weeks, I mostly succeeded in putting Noah out of my mind. There was a new project at work that actually promised to be interesting and for a few days, I threw myself into preparation for a meeting in which I'd convince my manager to let me participate; he agreed, and I had something to look forward to on Sunday nights. Importantly, Sarah, the second-to-least favorite coworker, wasn't part of the project, although she did spend a full afternoon making snide comments to no one in particular about how she would've been perfect for it.

I had just finished my lunch salad, talking in the office restaurant with one of my fellow assistants, when my phone buzzed with a new message. I didn't pay much attention to it - after all, my friends texted me throughout the day from their respective jobs - but when I sat back down at my desk and looked at my phone, my stomach felt like it leapt up to my throat. Despite my prideful decision not to let Noah occupy any more mental real estate, I read his message instantly.

Hi Emma, I apologize again for the way I handled things with you. Can I make it up to you?

After re-reading the message three times, I flipped my phone screen down and went back to work. I had enough to do, anyway, without having to ruminate over someone who thought he could just reenter my life like that - but I couldn't focus. I clicked back and forth between the presentation I had been working on before lunch and my e-mail program, but didn't register anything I read and stared at the blinking cursor for a while until I was shaken awake by my colleague dropping his water bottle.

I shook my head to myself and managed to work on the presentation for about an hour and a half (and read up on exhibitions coming up in the city) before I thought about the message again. I debated whether to reply right away or give him a petty taste of his own medicine and wait two weeks - and eventually went for the former. I wasn't going to let him off easy, though.

Seriously?

I hit send the moment I'd typed the question mark, flipped my phone again, and went back to work.

It wasn't until I left the office that I checked my phone again. On most days, I didn't manage to focus on work for more than about two hours at a time (and usually less than that), but today I had the adrenaline rush to get a lot of deep work done.

He had replied. It surprised me a little bit - I'd been ghosted before, I'd sent pissed-off messages before, and those other times the guy in question had stopped responding by that point. But Noah persevered, apparently. Then again, his job was all about perseverance.

Seriously, I want to apologize. I'd really like to see you again. I'll leave it up to you, but can I call you?

He'd added a photo. I opened it to see a dog looking right into the camera. It was a black Great Dane, and apparently a huge one too, but it looked like it had invented puppy eyes - a small line of white was visible below its warm brown irises.

I couldn't help but laugh. This picture was so far removed from Noah's tough, intimidating exterior and confident behavior that it was actually hilarious. It made me warm up a little, just a little, to him.

Fine, I texted back. I'm available now.

He called me when I was walking home from the bus stop.

"Hey, Emma."

Ugh. Even his voice alone was enticing. "Hi," I answered, then waited for him to talk.

"I didn't mean to leave you hanging like that."

"So why did you?" It came out a little more hostile than I intended.

He waited a second or two before answering. "It's… a long story. Some family things came up that I had to deal with, too."

That sounded like an easy out - but I decided to accept that excuse for what it was instead of pressing on. After all, we didn't know each other that well yet, and some family business was private. I could understand that. I kept my reply brief, though. He was the one who should be talking. "Okay."

"I'll stay away and leave you alone, if that's what you want," he said. He didn't sound like his usual confident self, now; his tone was modest, even a bit sheepish maybe.

Was that what I wanted? I had convinced myself that I didn't want anything to do with him anymore, that it was a good thing he hadn't texted me, but hearing his voice now made me doubt that. It reminded me of the lightness that we'd had for most of the time we'd spent together so far.

"What's with the dog?" I asked, buying myself some more time.

He laughed. "That's Ace."

"Ace. So it's not a picture you downloaded from Google?"

"No, he's mine. Are you a dog person?"

I bit my lip. It sounded so natural for him to slide back into that easy conversation - and, I had to be honest, it felt natural to me too. So I grinned, and that grin turned into an audible chuckle. "We never had a dog at home, but I did always want one. One of my best friends in school had one… Don't tell her, but I was mostly friends with her for that dog."

"Do you want to meet Ace?"

"I don't know… he seems really big?" I might like dogs, but never having had one of my own and not having been close to one since elementary school, I wasn't sure about hanging out with one that could reach my face without really trying.

"The biggest dogs are the sweetest," Noah laughed. "Don't worry. I've trained him well. If you'd rather not meet him, that's fine, but if you do, he won't do anything you're not comfortable with."

I smiled. Ace did look adorable in that photo despite his size, and my initial reservations about giving Noah a second chance were slowly fading. Maybe he really did have a good excuse for leaving. Maybe, just maybe there was a good reason he hadn't contacted me until now.

"Okay. I don't have plans tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Saturday, right? Let's walk along the river, maybe get some coffee."

I nodded automatically. "Sure," I said quickly, "but I do want to sleep in for a bit. How's two in the afternoon?"

"Perfect, we'll pick you up at home. See you then."