“Are you mad at me?”

All of his mental alarms went off at that phrase. He stopped typing and adjusted his headset as he blurted out, “What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”

“Well, whenever we talk on the phone you sound mad. Or, like, you’re mad but trying to not sound mad. All monotone and serious. Why are you mad? Does it bug you when I call you? I can stop calling you at work if it’s a problem.” By the end of this she sounded sad, hurt.

His inner alarms were now clanging in full red-alert all-battle-stations mode. “No! I love it when you call me. I think my ‘phone voice’ is just kinda blah, you know? Don’t read anything into it. Please keep calling when you want. Really.”

“So, are you saying that I read things into things?”

“What? No! I just don’t want you to think I’m mad when I’m not. That’s all. I like it when you call me. I’m not mad.”

“Okay…are you sure?” That note of insecurity in her voice always made him want to protect her, comfort her. It also drove him completely nuts – how hard does a guy have to work to prove that he loves a girl?

“I’m sure. I’m sorry – I’ll work on making my ‘phone voice’ friendlier. Okay?”

“Alright. Hey, a customer just came in – I gotta go. Love ya!”

“I love you too. Bye.”