He has a fantastic duplex apartment, very modern, in light tones and with a lot of metal everywhere. It feels like a hotel where you come to have some fun, but lacks the authenticity and coziness which usually hide in little sweet details. Hundred percent bachelor apartment with a great De'Longhi coffee machine.   Taking hot shower there in the morning felt so familiar already and so good after the rough night out. Standing under the thick shower rain and looking at the drops sliding down the glass door made me contemplate on the latest events of my life. I didn’t feel lost, but it definitely wasn’t a cloud number nine as well. Thankfully no more messages from the parallel universe arrived and I had a totally Robert free week (Lizzy went to get new photo material to some rural parts of Manchester, and I was to prepare the stories to share with the followers), but I won’t lie – my mind brings him up regularly and I have begun seeing his silhouette in the crowded streets of Oldham’s downtown, thinking he might have come to see his family or old British friends. On remembering this I wanted to wash my head on the inside also, gosh, why hasn’t anyone created a brain shampoo?

I came out of the shower to see a note on the coffee table saying Kevin will be back in a sec with some fresh pastries. Italian breakfast it is then, I thought, and went to make the coffees.

Then I heard the bell ring and came to the hall surprised that Kevin wasn’t using his keys. But that wasn’t Kevin, that was a delivery guy with a bunch of flowers and a small package.

– Kevin Lane? – he asked as if waiting for an approval of me being the mentioned guy.

– He is out now, – I mumbled, – but I can give it to him as soon as he is back.

– Ok, just sign in here and here, please… good, thank you, have a beautiful day.

And off he went down the stairs. I brought the flowers in – they were gorgeous. It felt like spring entered the apartment with the bouquet. My first thought was that some company had sent Kevin a thank you gift, but then I saw a card with red hearts on top of the package. Indecisively I waited several minutes my fingers playing with the flower buds… That is intruding into someone’s personal space, isn’t it? The same thing as spying which always require some lies afterwards. I hate lying, I hate spying. But Kevin is my boyfriend and he is the one to always talk of mutual trust and purity of our relationship. What if it really is just a thank you flower gift? Then I will not be ashamed of having looked into the note. But… what if it isn’t?

I haven’t had a chance to learn though, cause Kevin entered the flat surprised at the sight of the flowers.

– Did you rob some flower boutique? – he laughed sincerely.

– I think someone else did it for me, – I replied.

I really felt like Kevin was now thinking exactly what I had been thinking about a few seconds ago. If its some company – we can laugh and he can “regive” the bouquet to me like he usually does, but what if its not?

– Moreover, there is a package to it, – I said hating myself a bit. I was the one to put gasoline into this fire.

– Oh, – he replied, – then we might need to read the card to know whom it comes from and open the gift to see what the heck it is.

On saying this he took the card, turned it in his fingers and read it out loud with a funny mocking tone.

– “Kevin, you are my dream come true. xx Monica”

I tried to read his eyes: surprised…but not too much. Didn’t expect flowers, but knew the sender. Spending time with Lizzy has made me my own private investigator. I was really worried about the insides of the package. Honestly I didn’t want to know what’s in it. And again Kevin joined me in my thoughts. He just threw the gift on the upper rack of the bookshelf. It did look like a book though.