No. Absolutely not. But I smile anyway. “Yeah. Totally fine. Just, uh… thinking about the chipmunk.” I shudder theatrically. “Traumatizing.”
His brows furrow. “That’s it? Nothing else?”
“Yep.” Lie.
His mom gathers the buzzer. “So it’s settled—we’ll book the cabin for the weekend before Labor Day. That gives everyone time to clear their schedules.”
Melanie nudges me. “We’ll put you in the room with the view.”
“And you’re sitting next to Miles by the fire,” Mallory adds. “He burns marshmallows and eats them anyway, so he needs supervision.”
“That’s the only correct way to eat them.” Miles grins.
Everyone laughs. Except me. Because I’m too busy trying not to crumble under the weight of how easily they’ve written me into their traditions. Their jokes. Their plans. Their memories. Into Miles’s future.
“I should… probably get going,” I say suddenly, pushing to my feet. “Early shift tomorrow.”
Miles stands immediately, concern etched across his face. “Oh. Yeah. We can head out.”
“That’s right—you drove,” I murmur. “I’m sorry for making you leave early.”
Mallory gets to me first, wrapping me in a hug that’s all enthusiasm and zero restraint. “Next time, you’re not leaving early.”
Melanie follows, warm and gentle. “It was so good to see you. If you’re free, we’re having a girls’ day in a couple of weeks. You should come.”
I nod, because nodding is easier than figuring out how to say no without sounding like a liar.
Then Jackie pulls me into a hug that lingers just a beat longer than the others. “You’re always welcome here, Nora.”
I return the smiles with one of my own, but inside I’m wound so tightly, one wrong word might snap me in half. By the time Miles and I are in the car, silence settles between us.
“Everything okay?” he asks after a few blocks.
“Yeah,” I say too quickly. “Just tired.”
He nods, but I catch the way his gaze flicks toward me, like he doesn’t quite believe it.
When we pull up in front of my apartment, I’m reaching for the door before he’s fully stopped.
“Nora—”
But I’m already out of the car and halfway to my building before his footsteps are behind me. I turn as he catches up to me. “Miles, you don’t have to?—”
“I do.” His voice is low. “Are you sure everything’s okay? Did I… do something wrong?”
My breath goes shallow. “No. Tonight was perfect. You were great. Really.” I take a step back toward the door before I convince myself to stay. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
He studies my face as if there’s more he wants to say, but instead, he nods. “Okay. We’ll talk later.”
I give him one last smile before slipping inside. Instead of walking, I bolt to my apartment door, and once it’s shut behind me, I sag against it, breath rushing out of my lungs. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
By the time my shift ends, my feet ache, my head throbs, and spending the entire day avoiding thoughts of Miles has left me with the emotional equivalent of shin splints. I toss my bag into the back seat, crack the windows because the bar smell clings to me like guilt, and drive to Mom’s townhouse on autopilot. I don’t even bother knocking.
She’s at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables when I walk in. “Hey, sweetheart.” She glances up. “You look wrung out.”
That does it. I collapse onto a stool across from her. “That’s one way to put it.”
Her brows lift with equal parts concern and curiosity. “Tell me what happened.” She slides a mug of chamomile tea into my hands. It’s warm against my palms. I carry the tea to the couch and sink down, pulling the knitted throw she made years ago over my lap. If I’m going to unravel, I might as well be comfortable. “It’s getting too real,” I whisper.
