“Hey, it’s not silly,” I say, jabbing his side. “I put in too much work picking locations for you to downplay how much work you put in.”

Emmitt huffs quietly, his expression inexplicably tender as he looks back at me. “Sorry.”

“You should be,” I mutter, licking my cone again. I’m nearly done at this point, though Emmitt still has a lot of ice cream left on his cone. “So? I guess it makes sense that you can’t really stop being an actor because of contracts and stuff, but do you think your mother could at least lessen your workload? Maybe you can slow down the pace a little after the Firebrand project. I know I didn’t really talk to her a lot, but she seems like she really cares about you. Maybe she’d be amenable to it.”

“Who knows,” Emmitt says, kicking a pebble in our path as I crunch down on the rest of my cone, until all that’s left is a napkin in the palm of my hand. “My hopes aren’t too high.”

“Well, raise them,” I say, and lean over to take a lick of his ice cream before he can protest. Though, he just watches me with dark amusement, so maybe he wouldn’t have said anything regardless.

I pull back, smiling up at him, and his jaw goes slightly slack. His ice cream cone hits the ground and his eyes track my every movement as I shift back.

“You just wasted five dollars,” I say, but he doesn’t answer, still staring at me. “What?” I ask, moving to tug my braid, only to remember my hair is loose.

“It seems you have a habit of getting messy, love,” he says, his thumb brushing my lower lip, revealing a drop of ice cream on the pad of his finger.

I nearly stop breathing when he moves closer, so we’re just barely a step apart. I can feel Emmitt’s breath ghosting along my cheek. “Mina...”

I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak.

“I’m glad I’m here with you,” he whispers. “I’m glad it’s you and not anyone else.”

His eyes are so brown up close, darker than chestnuts and sweet like honey.

“I’m glad I’m here with you, too,” I say quietly, searching his gaze for the answer to a question I’m afraid to ask. Even though the moon lingers above us, being around Emmitt is like breathing in the sun. “Did you get the perfect picture yet?”

Emmitt shakes his head, and his nose brushes against my cheek, making me shiver in surprise. “No,” he says, and when he reaches for my waist, I don’t move away, even though his hands are so cold they nearly burn.