She looked up at him. “You...missed me?”

“Of course I missed you. My laptop broke again and there was no one to fix it.”

She grinned. “That’s it? That’s why you missed me? Because I can fix your laptop.”

“There might have been a few other things about you that I missed.”

“Like what?”

He pretended to think about it. “I miss your singing.”

“Jon, I’m a really bad singer.”

“I know. But I love the way you do it, anyway. And I missed the way you dance around the room even when there’s no music playing. The way you eat peanut butter with a spoon. The way your hair is so wild and curly in the mornings you can hardly see through it. The way you suddenly have a great idea and you burst if you don’t immediately tell me. Also, the way you put things off when you absolutely don’t want to do them. Talking of which—” He pointed to the phone. “There’s another message.”

He loved those things about her?

She played the last message.

Ashley, I love you. And it feels weird saying this to a machine, but you haven’t called and I don’t know where you are so there’s no other way to tell you how I feel. I love you.

She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to play it again to be sure she’d heard it correctly. “You love me?”

“Do you really need to ask me that? We’ve been friends for a decade, Ash. You know I love you.”

“I know you love me as a friend, but—”

“We spent the night together.”

“I know. But I was upset, and—”

“You think it was pity sex? Tell me you don’t think that.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Did it feel like pity sex?”

“No.” She felt her face turn hot. “And I don’t think that. Not really. But I was upset, and I did wonder if I took advantage of you.”

“Any time you want to take advantage of me, go ahead.” He pulled her back into his arms. “I love you.”

She hadn’t known those words could make her feel the way she did. “Do you mean that? Really?”

“Yes, I mean that.”

“And you don’t care that Cliff Whitman was my dad?”

“Why would I? How is that relevant?” He studied her face for a moment and then held out his hand. “Give me your phone again.”

“Why?”

He waggled his fingers. “Just give it to me.”

She handed it over and he unlocked it, because he knew her code just as she knew his, and then he scrolled back through her photos.

“What are you looking for?”