He sighed. “We’re not doing the stupid misunderstanding thing. I’m coming back. We’re going to do what we said we’d do.”

“Mmkay.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, his shoulders falling.

I stopped scrubbing and painted on a smile. “If we do, great. If not, I’ll figure it out. I’m not your responsibility.”

He narrowed his eyes and zipped his backpack closed before slinging it over his shoulder. “You’re going to miss me.”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, you are. You’re pissed because you’re going to miss me like hell.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head and continuing to not clean the counter with the cloth in quick circles. “That would be a total waste of time.”

“Stop being a hard-ass,” he quipped. “I’m going to miss you, too.”

My quick circles slowed.

“That’s why I’m coming back next weekend to get you. To take you home. My home. To Eakins.”

“What?” I looked up at him, my eyes instantly glossing over.

“I wanted to leave tomorrow, but Chuck said the funeral—”

“Next weekend?” Tears spilled over onto my cheeks in twin streams.

Taylor’s expression changed from smug to desperation. “We can go tomorrow. I just thought—”

“No,” I said, wiping my face. “No, next weekend is perfect. But”—I pointed at him—“don’t promise.”

He shook his head. “Fuck no, I’m not promising. I’ll promise not to if you want.”

I climbed over the counter and jumped on him, throwing my arms and legs around him. “Thank you!” I kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Taylor chuckled, trying to cover his surprise. His hand settled on the back of my hair, and he pressed his cheek against mine. “I’ll see you in a week.”

I relaxed my grip on him, and he lowered me to the floor. Out of pure excitement, I slid my hands between his sides and his arms, and I clasped my fingers together, squeezing him. “You make it really hard not to get my hopes up.”

“If I disappointed you, I think Phaedra would murder me—right after Chuck slit my throat.”

I glanced over to Chuck, who was holding a knife to his own throat and pretending to slice it, not at all teasing.

Taylor leaned over after I released my hold on him, and he kissed my cheek before backing away. “There’s a phone in that sack. My number’s already in it. Text me your travel info, so I can book the tickets.”

I quickly looked back at the bar. “Are you …” My breath caught. “You’re killing me.”

“Don’t call me Tay. Ever again. Or the deal’s off.”

I shook my head. “I won’t even call you an asshole behind your back.”

Reluctantly, he continued toward the door, adjusting the backpack. “Send nudes!” he called back, flashing the peace sign before pushing his way out to the sidewalk.