Turns out this only brings us closer!

My heartrate jumped and my breath turned shallow. Shitshitshitshitshit, I kept repeating to myself. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I was burning with shame and dread. What was she going to say? What would she tell my kids? Would she talk to the police?

I steadied myself on the counter and took a few deep breaths. I tried to calm down and as I did, it started to occur to me that maybe this wasn't so bad. After all, she was walking around my kitchen in her underwear. As far as she knew, I just walked down the stairs of my own house. I reminded myself that my diary-snooping and panty-sniffing and breast-groping and shower-peeping were all still my dirty little secrets. I had to stay confident and calm or risk blowing up the whole situation.

Clearing my head as much as possible, I made a mug of coffee--extra cream with one teaspoon of sugar, just like she likes it--and started down into the basement. "Charissa," I called, giving her ample warning. "Is it OK if I come down?"

"Um," I heard her whimper. "Yeah, I guess."

I walked across the warm carpet and tapped gently on her open door. She had dressed--hastily, it seemed--in a fantastic pair of jeans and nice, tight shirt. I could make out the impression of her bra under her shirt, a bra I had just seen up-close and personal.

"Hey, I brought you some coffee," I said. Charissa was sitting on her bed, and I handed her the milky mug. I turned the chair by the small desk around to face her and said, "Can I sit for a minute?"

"Yeah of course," she said. There was a moment of very awkward silence, and then she said, "Thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome." Another pause. "Listen--"

"Oh my God," she blurted out. "I am so sorry." This was definitely my cue to hold my tongue. "It was so quiet in the house, and I assumed you were out with the kids. You were so nice to do my laundry last night, and I guess you just forgot to put everything in the dryer, so I was just waiting for my clothes to dry, and I thought it would be OK to head upstairs, and oh my God, I am so embarrassed, and I am so sorry!"

"Hey, it's fine," I said. "Really, it's OK."

"Ugh," she grunted, and she actually started to tear up. "No, it is definitely not OK. I can't believe I was such an idiot at Amy's party last night. I drank so much and I feel so sick this morning, and I am such an idiot. Seth," she said, looking directly at me, "I hardly even remember getting home last night. You were here, weren't you?"

I spoke as tenderly as I could, "Yeah, I was. It was totally fine. We hung out a bit, remember?"

She shook her head sadly. "Maybe a little? I think I remember we were going to watch a movie, but I guess I fell asleep. I don't even remember getting back in bed."

I laughed gently. "Well, we did start a movie together, but you were pretty tired. And yeah, you did fall asleep, so I just headed upstairs."

"God, that is so embarrassing. I am so sorry," she said. "And oh my God this morning... First I slept through church and then..." Now she really was crying. Jesus, she was shy!

"Charissa, hey, give yourself a break. You had a great time with Amy; you told me so yourself. You were really pleasant last night, and then you had a nice long sleep. It's OK to miss church every now and again. And seriously, what happened in the kitchen is totally fine." I took a deep breath. Did I dare?

"Yeah?" she asked.

I dared. "Yeah," I said. "I mean, who would mind being greeted in his kitchen by such a beautiful girl before she even had a chance to get dressed?"

She chuckled. "Do you mean that?"

"Charissa, hey, yeah, of course I do. I mean-- what I mean is... I'm glad you're comfortable in this house, and I want you to feel comfortable around me, too." She was still looking at the carpet, so it was hard to read her expression. Still, I was on a roll, so what the hell? "I mean, it's not so different from when you leave the shower wearing your towel, right?"

She kept her gaze lowered but said quietly, "Yeah, I guess so."

"Right," I pressed on. "So, look, it's totally fine. Actually I'm the one who should apologize. I was trying to do you a favor, but I ended up messing up your laundry. So, sorry about that."

"No, it's OK," she said.

"And like I said," I caught her eyes and held eye contact. "I want us to be comfortable around each other. OK?"

"Um... OK," she said. She smiled sweetly. "Thanks, Seth."

"Hey, you're welcome." I took a breath. "So, you were going to make oatmeal?"

"Um, yeah, I was," she said.

"Great, I'm starving," I said. "Can you make some for me, too?"

She smiled broadly at me. "Yeah, I'd love to."