He’d been in a sound sleep dreaming about Honey. They were back at the IFC, only this time there was no holding back, no stopping, no regrets or guilty feelings. Hating to leave the dream haven, he rolled onto his side, willing the sound to cease. With luck, he could go back to sleep and pick up where they—he—had left off. No such luck. The pounding persisted. As much as he wanted to blame the din on the storm, he couldn’t keep ignoring the obvious. Someone was definitely at his door. He cracked open an eye, mentally reviewing the probable causes for waking him up in the middle of the night. Old Lady Barnes’s cat crawled out onto the fire escape—again? A drug deal going down in the hallway—again? One of the older folks falling asleep with the stove on—again? His life was pretty predictable. Or at least it had been before he met Honey. He glanced over to the rain pelting his window and hoped that whatever the problem was, it wouldn’t involve going outside.
