“Don’t,” I warn.
She smirks. “Noted.”
After hanging out until Asher goes down for his nap, I head to my car and call Mom. She answers on the second ring.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hey. Are you busy?”
“For you? Never. What’s going on?”
My grin returns, nerves fluttering again. “Okay, so… you know my app OneDate?”
“The one you don’t sleep because of?”
“That’s the one.” I run a finger along the steering wheel. “I got an email this morning. A podcast wants me on their show to talk about it.”
There’s a pause. Then—“Oh my god,” she says softly.
“Is that a good oh my god or a concerning one?”
“That’s a very good oh my god. Nora, that’s amazing news.”
Tears prick at the back of my eyes, completely uninvited. “You really think so?”
“I know so. You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m so proud of you.”
Her words hit hard, and I have to press my fingers to my eyes, laughing through the sudden sting. “I’m excited,” I admit. “And terrified.”
“That’s how you know it matters. You’re going to do great. When is it?”
“I don’t know yet. I replied to the email to lock in a date.”
She chuckles softly. “Just remember—be you.”
I smile. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too.”
After I hang up, I sit there for a moment, the phone still warm in my hand, my head buzzing with too many emotions to name. I don’t know where this leads, but for the first time, the fear edges into excitement—and that feels like the start of something big.
I start the engine and pull away from the curb. Green street signs blur past, then one makes me ease off the gas. Miles’s house is only a few blocks away. I could—hypothetically—swing by. Just say hi. Mention the podcast in a totally casual, I-haven’t-been-thinking-of-you way. At the next intersection, I could turn left and go home. Or keep going straight. I slow at the stop sign but don’t flip on my blinker. This is a bad idea or a perfectly normal idea. It’s still up for debate. As I roll forward, my heart kicks up a notch. I’m not even sure what I’m hoping for: that his driveway’s empty? That he’s home? As I approach his house, I see him in the driveway, hauling equipment from the garage to the back of his SUV. A hard case I recognize from drone day in one hand, a small cooler in the other. Dark khakis. A zip-up hoodie with the sleeves shoved to his elbows. Shit. He’s leaving. That’s fine. Good, actually. I shouldn’t interrupt him. This was a stupid idea anyway. There’s no reason to stop—no reason to turn this into something it isn’t. We are not the kind of people who casually swing by each other’s houses to share career milestones. Uncertainty settles heavy in my gut. We’re?—
He turns around. Our gazes meet.
Time does that awful slow-motion thing as Miles lifts a hand and waves. Just a normal, friendly wave. And I panic. Full-body, no-thoughts panic. I mash the gas and rocket past his driveway as if I’ve just robbed a bank, staring straight ahead while absolutely still watching him in my peripheral vision. A horn blares.
“Shit!” I yelp, swerving back into my lane just in time to avoid a head-on collision. I slam on the brakes, heart pounding so hard it hurts. I sit there gripping the steering wheel, heart thumping wildly. He saw me. He waved. I almost caused an accident. There’s no version of this where I pretend it didn’t happen. “Okay,” I mutter. “We’re doing this.”
Before I can chicken out, I throw the car into reverse and back up until I’m parked at the curb beside his driveway. My hands shake while my pulse lodges in my throat. I kill the engine and sit there for a beat, then force myself to open the door. I step out of the car and immediately wish I could rewind the last five minutes.
Miles stands at the end of his driveway, one eyebrow lifted, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
“Hi,” I blurt, far too loudly.
He laughs softly. “Hey. You okay? You kind of… sped past me.”
“Yep.” The answer comes out too fast. “Totally fine. Very normal driving behavior. Big fan of… momentum.”
