"I know I told you to go to hell," I say, "but I'm glad you ignored me." "Delia, that newspaper story--" "You know what?" I say, trying to keep my voice from breaking. "Right now, I don't need a journalist. But I sure could use a friend." He hunches his shoulders. "I have references." I offer up the smallest smile, a bridge between us. "Actually," I confess, "you're the only one who applied."