Nate and I slip through the back door just as the sun is rising, our footsteps barely whispers against the hardwood floor. His hand in mine feels both familiar and electric—his thumb tracing lazy circles on my skin sending shivers down my spine. Everything has shifted between us, transforming what was once comfortable into something thrilling and new. Or maybe it was always there, waiting for one of us to be brave enough to acknowledge it.

In the hushed darkness of the hallway, he draws me close. The kiss is unhurried, deliberate—the kind that makes time stretch like honey, sweet and endless. My world narrows to the gentle pressure of his lips, the steady beat of his heart against my palm.

"Keep looking at me like that," he murmurs, voice rough with promise, "and sleep becomes optional."

"Maybe that's the point," I whisper back.

His smile turns dangerous as he leans in, breath warm against my ear. "Careful, Leni. Push me too far, and I might forget about being quiet."

A soft laugh escapes me as I press a finger to his lips. "Go. Before we wake everyone."

He takes my face in his hands and asks, “You sure you’re okay?”

I nod and he brushes a final kiss across my forehead—tender, almost reverent—before disappearing down the hallway. I stand there, pulse racing, letting the reality of the last 24 hours settle into my bones. For the first time since Dad died, the future doesn't feel like a weight around my neck.

Hours later, I find Mom on the verandah, bathed in morning light. She's curled into her favorite chair, lost in The Alchemist—Dad's dog-eared copy that she used to tease him about reading every summer. The sight of her there, peaceful and present, catches in my throat.

"Morning," I offer, settling into the chair beside her.

She looks up, warmth flooding her features. "Morning, sweetheart. How was the concert?"

Guilt flashes through me—I never texted. "It was incredible. I'm sorry I didn't⁠⁠—"

"Nate texted Lydia and me," she interrupts gently. "He let us know you were safe."

“He did?"

Her smile widens knowingly. "You were with Nate. I knew you'd be fine."

I study her face, noting how the shadows of loss had haunted her this past year seem less pronounced. "You seem happy," I observe. "Really happy."

She sets the book aside, meeting my gaze with an openness that makes my chest tight. "I am."

"Would that happiness involve a certain tall, handsome restaurateur with perfect blondish hair?”

A blush colors her cheeks, and I can't help but smile at how young she looks in this moment. "He does have really nice hair, doesn't he?"

I laugh at her terrible attempt at hiding her crush. I’m happy to see her smiling the way she is.