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“I take it back. Now it’s perfect.” He winks, threading his fingers through mine on his lap.

“You always were a smooth talker.”

He laughs. “You think so? That’s not how I remember it. Half the time we were together, I was too tongue-tied to say the right thing.”

“Really?” I reply, surprised. “I never got that impression. You always seemed so sure of yourself.”

Of us, I want to add, but bite down on the words.

“Well, I wasn’t. I was always a wreck walking up your stairs, rehearsing what I was going to say. But every time you opened the door, everything I’d practiced just vanished into thin air.” His gaze settles on mine. “I was always so in awe of you.”

“In awe?”

He nods. “In complete and utter awe. You were just so… you. You never tried to be like anyone else. I loved the way your mind worked. The things you would say. The way you saw the world.” His smile turns almost bashful. “I never stood a chance, Max. You captivated me.”

“It’s funny how we remember the past, isn’t it?” I say, instead of acknowledging the sweet words he just shared. “I always felt like I never said the right thing. That I was always too much in my own head. That I never left an impression on anyone. At least not a good one.”

“You left an impression on me.” He looks deep into my eyes. “Remember that night at my mom’s wake?”

I nod.

How could I forget?

“I always thought you were the coolest girl ever, but after that night…” His heart is practically sparkling in his eyes. “I knew you were it for me.”

“We were eleven,” I laugh, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“I know. But I still knew.” A quiet tenderness flicks across his face. “You made the worst day of my life a little less awful. I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for that.”

I swallow hard.

“You made that day better for me too. Because of you, I didn’t feel so alone,” I confess.

The way he looks at me then, with so much affection written across his face, makes my heart stumble over itself.

At this rate, Milo will have me confessing things I’m nowhere near ready to admit. And since I’d rather not bare my entire soul tonight, I decide a change of subject is in order.

“I’m doing a reading at the B&B tomorrow,” I tell him.

“Really?” he asks, seemingly unfazed by the abrupt change in subject.

“Yep,” I mutter, feeling ridiculous for bringing it up like that.

“That’s amazing. I thought you didn’t do public appearances.”

“How do you know that?”

When all he does is smile at me, I shoot him a pointed look.

“You know, you could just ask me stuff. You don’t have to Google my name to find out shit about me.”

“Okay. Next time, I’ll ask.” He flashes me a cheeky grin, dimples and all.

“Good. I’d appreciate that.”

Then it occurs to me that maybe I should do the same. Asking about his life. About what he’s been doing all these years. Where he lives. What he does for work. All the basic things I should probably know about a man I’ve spent the past few days obsessing over.

“So, a reading, huh? Are you nervous?” he asks, beating me to the punch.