My eyes are bleary as I blink at the bright light shining in past the shutters in my bedroom. Who is using a jackhammer on a Saturday morning? I groan as I roll over on my back. There's no jackhammer, only an above-average hangover. What did I do last night? I remember going out drinking with some guys from the firm, but not much beyond that. Definitely had too much to drink.

Forcing myself to sit up, I rest my pounding head in my hands for a moment before getting out of bed and making my way to the shower. The hot water helps me relax somewhat, and the battering ram in my head subsides slightly. I'm massaging shampoo into my hair when an image of Penelope in a hallway flashes before me. When did I see her? Suddenly I remember everything, including the way her lips felt against mine.

Shit!

I got blackout drunk last night and poured my heart out to Penelope. And she wasn't having it.

Shit!

The last couple of weeks of lunch meetings have shifted something inside me, and seeing her without telling her how I feel has become more and more difficult. Apparently, with the aid of alcohol loosening my tongue, I laid it all out. Not in the most eloquent way, either. Shit! She must hate me now. I have to salvage this. Somehow.

I quickly finish in the shower and dry myself, tying the towel around my waist like a kilt. I try to find my phone. But I must have placed it somewhere that probably made sense last night, but not so much today. Finally, I find it in the fridge. Maybe I thought it was cheese. I bring up Penelope's contact details and send her a message:

Penelope, I'm SO sorry. Can we please talk?

...

Watching those three dots as she's typing is one of the most nerve-wracking things I've ever done. And I'm a lawyer standing up in court defending people. I frown. She's either writing a very long message or it's bugging out. Or maybe she's rewriting it several times. Is she telling me to go to hell? I can't even blame her if she is.

I check the time, it's already past ten, so I expect she's awake. Bringing the phone with me, I go into the kitchen and pop a pod into my coffee maker in the hopes of some caffeine chasing away the remains of the hangover. My phone pings and I immediately check it.

No problem. I'm here. Coffee?

For a moment I stare at the phone dumbly. What does she mean, she's here? I don't have time to ponder it any further before the doorbell rings. Right. She's here. I hurry over to the door and fling it open, finding her outside, crocheted cat hat on her head, cheeks pink from the cold, and two takeaway cups of coffee in her hands.

"Good morning!" She beams at me before her smile falters as we both realize I'm still wearing nothing but a towel. I'm not exactly shy about showing myself half-naked, but compared to her, still in a winter coat and gloves, I definitely feel undressed.

Running a hand through my still damp hair, I step out of the way to invite her inside. "Come in," I mumble and watch as she steps into my apartment, her head moving around as she takes it all in.

It's a nice place. I know because I paid top dollar for it and then had an interior designer help me decorate it. There are a few personal touches I've added myself. Like the photos of my family on what I call the 'family wall', and my large flatscreen TV and PlayStation. The rest of the place looks like it could have been taken straight out of a designer magazine. Which, in fairness, it probably was.

Closing the door, I take the coffee mugs from her so she can remove her outerwear. We move into my kitchen and she gasps and looks at me when she notices the fresh cup still in the coffeemaker.

"Oh, no!" She giggles. "I'm sorry! Naturally, you'd have your own coffee at home. I'm such an idiot!"

I smile, handing one mug back to her. "You were being nice. And I like this coffee." To emphasize my words, I take a sip and have to hold back a grimace as it's lukewarm after traveling in the cold.

"Why are you here?" I ask, because I honestly can't figure it out.

She sits down on a high stool by my bar counter and places her mug in front of her on the marble surface. "Well, I was in the neighborhood anyway, running some errands for Amy, and I couldn't stop thinking about last night. I figured you were just too drunk and not making much sense. We've been getting along so well lately, so I wanted to clear the air." She takes a sip of her coffee and her eyes widen. "This is cold! I'm so sorry! Why didn't you tell me?"

I can't help but smile. "You went through all this trouble—"

"Yeah, to get you cold coffee!" She rolls her eyes at me, then smiles. I like her smile. A lot. "Anyway, I like us being friends. And we have this wedding to get through, right?"

"Right," I repeat. I won't lie. There's a part of me hoping she had changed her mind and realized she wants me too. But I guess it won't happen while she's still with that blond guy. Even I can see he's good looking. "I'm really sorry, Penelope. I was an idiot. Kissing you like that was terrible. I promise it won't happen again." Until you want me to.

"Great, it's all water under the bridge now." She takes another sip of her coffee only to be reminded of its sad state, and she grimaces and pushes the mug away from her on the counter.

"Would you like a hot cup?" I ask with a chuckle, making her nod vigorously.

The cup I made as she showed up is still hot, so I slide that over to her as I start a new one for myself. Taking a sip, she sighs happily.

"Oh, this is much better."

"I'll be just a moment," I say as my cup is pouring. "Let me put some clothes on."

Her green eyes travel over my unclad form, and she nods. As I walk to my bedroom, I can't help but grin. She was definitely checking me out. Those private trainer sessions are paying off. I quickly get into a pair of designer jeans and a jumper before rejoining her in the kitchen.

"Your coffee is so good," she says as I return to grab my cup.

"Thanks." I chuckle. "I'm afraid I can't take any credit as it's just a pod, and the machine does all the work."

She grins. "Well, good job choosing the right machine."

I'm so relieved I didn't ruin everything last night. No more alcohol for a while. I don't want to risk ruining my chances with this woman. She appeals to me in ways that no one ever has before, and if I can't be with her, I want to at least be her friend. I cannot imagine my life without her. It's crazy how quickly I've gone from having a light interest in her as a hot girl I knew in high school to someone I want in my life always.

Is this fate? We've always run into each other, but it never went beyond casual acquaintances. Despite so many occasions when it easily could have become more. If I was inclined to believe in cheesy things like fate, I definitely would have thought this was it and we're meant to be together.