“You have a good day?” Again, I answer. “I did.” “Good.” With a satisfied nod that does weird things to my lower belly, Nick tugs one last time before releasing me, leaving me oddly bereft as he moves toward the door. “See you tomorrow, querida.” I pray to every higher power in existence that when I issue my own goodbye, it isn’t actually as breathy as it sounds to my own ears, “Night, Nick.”
