perhaps, but generous. I didn’t argue.
Outside, he offered his arm, walked me to my car, and waited until my engine turned over before heading
to his. No pushy invitations, no lingering awkwardness—just a clean, pleasant goodnight. Driving home, I texted Mia: You might be right about this one.
The Morning Curveball
The next morning, I opened my email expecting a warm, simple note—something like “Had a great time.” Instead, I found a message with the subject line: Invoice for Last Night.
At first, I thought it wasa joke. Maybe
