We can’t pretend sitting here like this is a comfortable feeling when we both know it’s not.

It’s awkward and, frankly, the sight of her pisses me off, but she is here, which is more than I would expect. I admit it wasn’t horrible, having her show up for me today. Honestly, it might have been the motherliest thing she’s ever done.

Yes, I know Monti had to have called her and I have a feeling I know who found a way to get in touch with Monti, but who cares. They both came to me in a moment I never would have reached out, and I appreciate that. I probably would have turned around and went home this afternoon had Monti not led me inside.

I needed to go inside.

I needed to apologize to my dad for all the years I refused to think of him. Maybe I would have loved him if I had allowed myself to miss him.

My mom stands, facing me once she reaches my door. “We’ll wake in the same world tomorrow, Jameson,” she says calmly, and I hear her loud and clear.

Nothing about my life truly changed today, even though everything about me seems to have.

“Yeah, Mom.” I glide my thumbnail along my open palm. “I know.”

She nods, smoothing her jacket down, her eyes snapping to the flashing screen of my phone on my nightstand, spotting Anthony’s name on the screen. “He keeps calling.”

“He does.”

“Right, well, tomorrow is tomorrow, and tonight is... tonight.”

I frown, and she shifts her body sideways, pushing my door open farther.

Balloons fill the entryway not a second later, and then Beretta’s face comes into view.

A harsh breath leaves me and only right then do I realize how much I needed someone I care for.

I push up onto my knees, and he comes right for me, ditching the giant red and white bouquet. I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, but I’m stolen a second later.

I’m met with Arsen’s smile and my own spreads, emotion clogging my throat. I lay my head against his chest, locking my arms around his waist, but then a hand falls to my lower back and my eyes dart up, locking on Arsen’s.

He nods encouragingly, pushing my hair over my shoulder, and slowly I turn around, my gaze colliding with my favorite person.

“Ransom...” I breathe.

He sits on my bed, staring, waiting for me to be the one, and he should.

It’s my turn.

I step up to him, and his legs open, making room for me. Even though the sleeves of my sweater cover half my hands, I bring them to his face, tilting his head up and holding his eyes to mine.

I lower my forehead to his, and the corner of his mouth lifts.