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I reply:

I can bring you another, less romantic one. ??

I stop myself from adding: Right now, if you want to.

It takes a while before she replies to my last message. It just says:

Thank you.

At least we’re in touch again. That’s something. Neither one of us might know any more than we did when we said goodbye almost a week ago, but it’s better to be in contact with her than not, that much I do know. To have this tiny line of communication open between us, even if it doesn’t lead to anything else than exchanging a text message from time to time. Although I did say that I love her—well, loaf her. Surely, she knows what it means. Surely, she knows how I feel.

I’m about to bring a loaf upstairs to Miss Carol when my phone rings. I nearly drop the bread I’m carrying, because who knows? It might be her.

I fumble for my phone in my pocket. It is her. As soon as I pick up, Mac starts talking.

“I don’t want to see you, Jamie, for obvious reasons, but maybe we can talk. Over the phone.”

“Not even on FaceTime?” I might as well skip the greeting as well.

“No. You’re…” She sighs heavily. “Well, you’re basically too hot.”

“Of all the things a person can be accused of.” I put the bread away and settle in the couch.

“I don’t trust myself around you.” Mac chuckles. “It’s not all your fault. I have this inexplicable weakness when it comes to you. I’ve been thinking about seeing a doctor but I’m too embarrassed to explain my problem, namely that I keep ending up in bed with my ex.”

Has she been drinking? Her words come through perfectly clear, not a hint of slurring about them. I decide to play along—because this is so much more fun than nursing my broken heart. Maybe, depending on how this call goes, it doesn’t have to remain so broken.

“I sure hope you don’t have to call in sick to work,” I say. “I’d hate missing your pretty face on TV.” This isn’t just bantering that we’re doing. It’s full-on flirting.

“I’ll be out of town to cover the Athletics Championships next week. I’ll be all over your screen, if you want to see me.”

“Oh, I do want to see you.”

“It’s in Seattle so there’s not much chance of running into you, which will be good for my curious affliction.”

“We should start a support group, because I seem to be suffering from the exact same disorder.”

“Nothing but impure thoughts when you see Jamie Sullivan?” Mac bursts out laughing. “I imagine it’s a lot harder for you to deal with, unless you get rid of all the mirrors in your place.”

I chuckle along because it feels so good. “My condition is much worse than yours, actually. All I have to do is switch on my TV and there you are.”

“You don’t have to switch on your TV.”

“Yeah right.”

A short silence falls. Maybe Mac has run out of steam. It’s hard to gauge when I can’t see her face—that face I know so well.

“Both Leila and Alan have been laying into me,” she says after a while. “Basically telling me that I’m a fool.” She does an intake of breath and I’m not sure if it’s a chuckle or something else. “You won’t believe what Leila said to me.”

“I’m all ears.” My pulse quickens.

“She said that instead of just my legs, I should also open my heart to you.”

I burst out laughing. I should send Leila a really nice loaf of bread for saying that. “No, she didn’t,” I say.

“She fucking did.” Mac laughs along. She must think it’s funny, otherwise she wouldn’t have shared it with me, of all people. “Can you believe that?”

Can I ask Mac what her reply was? Or will that instantly kill the pleasant vibe of this phone call? I’m too curious. “Leila’s quite something. What was your response to this outrageous statement?”