I did not plan to tell Miles Whitman my entire life story.

But it was hard not to when Grace was all I could think about and when not talking about her felt a lot like denying that she had ever been alive.

Instead of forcing my mouth shut, I told him about her big eyes as she followed me everywhere to bug me to play with her when I was clearly doing homework.

I told him that she could not sleep without that favorite nightlight of hers. It annoyed me for years—even back then, I preferred total darkness. Although, when Mom was packing away the starry-night carousel, I realized I would miss the understated lights it carried with it. I finally understood why Mom had cared enough to get it repaired whenever it would stop working.

I briefly mentioned her death without details. He didn't ask for them.

It didn't help me stay quiet when Miles seemed so intrigued by my story that his eyes barely ever left my face as he listened.

He laughed in all the right places as he cooked and rarely ever commented on anything.

I sat at the kitchen island and watched him watch me.

Well, maybe we should have known then that his infamous new recipe would end up burned.

Maybe we should have guessed we'd be ordering pizza instead of testing his cooking skills.

But I had no regrets—talking about Grace, acknowledging that I had a sister and still did even though she was no longer here to testify of it. She was still around in my mind to make sure I never forgot it again.

"So, you invited me to your place to watch you burn a new meal?" I joked as I took a slice of cheese pizza from the box.

Miles's half was covered with all sorts of weird toppings that I would never try but fit the chaos that permanently lived behind his eyelids perfectly.

His apartment was surprisingly clean for a guy who thought messiness was the solution to everything. I did a great job avoiding any part that wasn't—ignoring the cup stains left on the counter, the flour he spilled where he had been working. There must have been more flour on the counter than in his meal.

"I got distracted," he said, staring at me from across the island, with accusation in his narrowed eyes.

"Don't look at me. I tried to save the rest of it."

I remembered joining him at the stove to check on the state of his meal when I first noticed the steam. My arm brushed his as I tried to reach for the sauté pan's handle and I stayed frozen for the next few seconds, which was less helpful than I was going for.

"Couldn't have done it without you," Miles said, tilting his head slightly as he mocked me.

"I know."

I tried to make sure my hands would steer clear from his every time I reached out for one of the small slices, but he worked against me as though he sought my hand on purpose.

"Now that I remember," I said, though I had been thinking about it for a while, "I turned in my poetry collection yesterday, which, if I'm not wrong, makes me the grand winner. That's twice now, Miles. Are you even trying?"

He chuckled at the jab and looked back down at the pizza box that stood like a fort between us, successfully avoiding my gaze.

"In my defense," he said as he rose from his chair and nodded for me to do the same, "you're both a motivation and a distraction."

"Is that the best you've got?"

I nudged his shoulder as I walked by his side, and he simply shook his head, amusement visible on his face.

"Or I could also go with that instead—my sole source of motivation bailed on me for days, knowing I get an inspiration surge whenever she's around. It was practically intentional sabotage."

I scoffed as a flight of stairs took us down to his basement, where thousands of books lined up tall shelves making whether or not there were actual walls complex guesswork.

"Why didn't you lead with that?" I asked as I turned around in Miles's own little pocket-paradise.

"I was afraid you'd only want to hang out with me for the promise of permanent access to my library."

"Do I have permanent access to this?"

"Do you want a key?" The grin that broke apart his face reassured me that he was only kidding as he walked by my side while I browsed for titles I would recognize. "You can come by any time, well, you know, for the sake of finishing the novel and stuff."

"Yes, for your novel, of course."

I picked up what looked like an earlier edition of Jane Eyre. My hands touched the fancy pattern of the title as I stared at it.

My mind wandered to other books I read that prompted me to start writing. I didn't snap back to reality until Miles's voice reached my ears with a sentence I had not been expecting.

"I think I might be falling for you, Kelly."

It took a while for the words to make sense, but once they did, they struck me speechless, and I was impressed that the book didn't slip from my hands.

If it hadn't been a date so far, it sure felt like one now.

I wasted as much time as I could to arrange the book back on the shelf. But when I was done, I still didn't have a response prepared. It didn't help that Miles's hand was now on my cheek, ruining any chance I could possibly have at normal thought processes.

For lack of a better way to express myself, I nodded. I didn't know what it meant. Was I acknowledging his confession? Was I admitting that I felt the same? What did he think it meant?

When I finally noticed how close we were to each other, his face was only inches from mine.

"I, uh, I think I might, uh..." Then I took a few steps back and decided to just say all of it in one breath before I could change my mind. "I think I might be spending the rest of the year in Australia for a writing program."

His eyebrows pulled up as I spoke. That didn't seem to be the answer he was expecting, but he continued to walk, so I matched his pace.

"It was sort of, well, a last-minute decision."

He didn't say anything. He focused instead on the books as we passed them, brushing the spines with his fingers.

"Aren't you going to ask me to stay?" I asked after a few silent minutes as the loudest sound in the room came from the pounding of my heart against the cage that I had custom-designed for it.

"Do you want me to?" he asked and stopped again, his eyes unreadable this time as he analyzed my face for a glimpse into my thoughts that I hoped he wouldn't get.

Miles never did act as I assumed he would, and this time, his unpredictability left me caught up between relief and disappointment.

Did I wish he would care enough to ask me not to go? Would I care enough to stay if he asked? I was dying to find out.

I shrugged. "Do you want me to want you to ask me?"

He smiled at the phrase. It wasn't his usual smile that sent me soaring light-years above ground. This one looked like the one he wore when he talked about missing writing.

"Oh, I want that. But I'm not in a position to act on it. That sounds like a great opportunity."

The lingering heat on my cheek from his touch, and the longing I had felt when he leaned in, made me question what would be so great about this opportunity. Especially when it would take me on the other side of the world to the farthest possible place I could be from him.

➷➷➷

I found Alec's mother in our office when I entered it the next day.

"Mom, I'm not five," he protested as she pressed a large gold star sticker next to his nameplate. "I don't need a gold star every time I do something right."

She grinned and ruffled the perfect strands of brown hair he must have taken so long to adjust. "You know you love it. Who doesn't want to feel a surge of motivation every workday?"

He frowned and took her hand away from his hair so that a few locks could survive the torture intact.

"I don't need it."

"Well, you've been doing so well with the company. I hate to admit it, but I didn't actually think that Whitman Writing Wizards would survive."

His eyes widened as she said the name, and I tried to dig my teeth into my bottom lip not to laugh. "Mom, that might have been a cool name in Grandpa's time, but it's Triple W now."

"Shame. I really liked the ring of it."

She turned to me as I stood in the middle of the room because she blocked access to my seat. "It's good to see you again, Kelly." She stepped back to let me pass by her, and I sat at the desk. "Miles won't shut up about you," she added with a smile.

I returned it with one of my own, but I wondered how much Miles could possibly have to say about me whenever he called his mom.

"He also mentioned," she said and turned to Alec with a scowl that failed to be intimidating, "that you have a girlfriend you've been hiding from me. So, naturally, I came to coordinate your wedding."

Alec's face melted into a familiar shade of red as he coughed, choking on nothing else but her words.

"Mom." It sounded like a one-word warning that she would definitely ignore as her eyes lit up with mischief and reminded me too much of her other son.

"That was a joke, Alec." She set her bag on his desk and sat at one of the two seats across from him. "But, seriously though, did one of those blind dates I organized finally pay off?"

"No. Let's never talk about those again."

As they argued, playfulness in her tone and irritation in his, Olivia's head sneaked in the same way she always came in.

"I have Mr. Collins's manuscript," she announced before her eyes landed on his mom.

Alec grunted and rubbed his face with his hand as his mother shifted in her seat to meet the newcomer. Rose tilted her head in amusement as she looked from her son to Olivia and connected the dots.

"Hello," she said, bouncing to her feet quicker than someone forty years younger would have. "I'm Rose, Alec's mom. And you," she added and took the manuscript from her, placing it on Alec's desk before shaking her hand, "must be Alec's first official girlfriend."

I didn't know what kept Alec's head from bursting into flames from the fire that reflected on his cheeks.

"Call me Liv." Olivia grinned at the look on Alec's face and joined forces with his mom. "Why, you never did mention that important detail."

"Oh, there's more," Rose told her. "We should take this conversation outside. We're distracting the poor guy from his work."

Alec seemed to dread their exit more than he dreaded their conversation itself. The two of them alone implied unmonitored conversations that would guarantee further embarrassment for him for years to come.

As they walked out, I turned from the manuscript I had been working on and tried to find something to tell that would keep his mind off the ladies' scheming laughs.

"He should be almost done with his current project, so you should get an answer soon about whether or not he'll sign with you," I told him. I played with the pen between my fingers to manage my own excitement.

"Miles?" Alec asked with his eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean? He sent his book in last week. It's finished."