Natalie takes a deep breath. For a moment, her eyes seem wet, almost as if she’s holding back tears. She doesn’t shed any, though, so maybe it’s the spice. “Hot chili pepper?” I ask.

She nods and grabs a glass of ice water, gulping some down. But she doesn’t say anything more, so I keep the conversation going with a question. “Is it weird to hear this since you live with her?”

She shakes her head. “No. I think it’s wonderful.” She turns to me, her eyes meeting mine, the look in them genuine. “I love her, and I love knowing how much you care about her.”

Her voice does something to me. Warms me up. Squeezes my heart. “What about Charlotte? You’re super close now. Did you always get along?”

She makes a “so-so” gesture then answers. “Most of the time, but when we were younger we fought like any siblings. I’d want to wear one of her skirts. She wouldn’t want me to. That sort of thing.” Natalie lowers her voice to a whispered confession, “I pranked her, too.”

“You naughty girl.” I wiggle my fingers, a sign for her to spill the beans. “What’d you do?”

“She was crazy focused in school, so one morning I set her alarm clocks wrong. Boy, was she pissed. She nearly missed a test. She was not happy with me. But it didn’t matter, because I was so jealous of her.”

I tilt my head. “Why?”

“School came easily to her. She breezed through high school and got into Yale like it was the easiest thing in the world.” She turns away to fiddle with her beer bottle.

“And you? School wasn’t your thing?”

“I was more interested in the physical stuff. I spent so much time and energy on martial arts, you know? But it still made me batty because school mattered more to my parents, and that’s what she aced. I guess they were right, though. She runs a profitable business, and I’m just subbing in karate classes,” she says, brushing her hair off her shoulder.

“Hey,” I say, my voice soft. “You’re not just a substitute. You’re building yourself up. You’re growing your reputation. And I have complete faith your video series is going to be amazing. Speaking of, are you going to show them to me?”

“Let me finish the edit, then I can email them to you,” she suggests, a hopeful note in her voice. “If you really want to see them.”

“I do. I’d love to see them and help you in any way I can.”

Her eyes light up. “I’d really love some feedback.”

“Count on it. I’ll help you make them amazing. And hey, I also happen to think you’re amazing at WH Carpentry & Construction. You’re much more than an assistant, Nat. You manage the shop. You make it run.”

And now her smile spreads wide across her face. “Really?”

She sounds so damn happy at the compliment, and her reaction thrills me. “You’re awesome at what you do. You’re invaluable.”

“It’s fun. I sort of feel like every day is this puzzle, and I get to make all the pieces fit.”

“The WH jigsaw is better than being a phone sex manager?” I tease.

“Much better than furries and feet,” she says with a laugh. She turns more serious, placing her hand on my forearm. “I truly enjoy my job, Wyatt, so I don’t want you to think I’m looking to ditch this gig for karate teaching. I like making both work and martial arts fit in my life.”

I wipe a hand across my brow. “Whew. Because you know I’d be a mess without you.”

“I’m not planning on going anywhere. So long as you’ll have me,” she says. Then she seems to realize the double meaning and quickly corrects herself. “As long as you’re happy with my work.”

“I’m very happy with your work.” I pick up my beer when I realize she never finished her story. “You didn’t tell me what your punishment was for the alarm clocks.”

“I had to do her laundry and dishes for a week.”

I crack up. “Bet you never did that again.”

Natalie shrugs happily. “It wasn’t a punishment. I like laundry.”

“No one likes laundry.”

“I’m the exception, then. I like clean spaces. I like an organized home. I don’t mind the work getting it there.”

“You are quite the planner. I was impressed you brought condoms to Vegas.” I pick up another burger, but before I bite it, I realize what just came out of my mouth. “Um, can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

She laughs. “Listen, we don’t need to tiptoe around each other. We don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen, either. Let’s just be glad we’re moving on. We had our fun, we put it behind us, and we can still hang out like we did before, as coworkers.”

She takes a burger bite from the plate and holds it up in a toast and we knock . . . burgers. “I’ll toast to that for sure. As coworkers.”

We power through the plate, then order one more, quenching the fire with beer and returning to who we were. But that’s not entirely true. Because when I walk her home and stand under the green awning that leads into her building, reality slams into me once more.

Here’s the thing—even if you agree to return to the pre-sex days, even if you have an amazing time just being together, when you stand in front of her building, and all you can think about is why you can’t go upstairs with her and fuck her against the wall, then kiss her till she’s writhing and wriggling and begging you to stay the night and do it all again, you realize that putting the genie back in the bottle is damn near impossible.