We're flying back home, first class, and despite the fancy snacks and a few sips of Keller’s glass of bubbly when no one paid attention, I'm more stressed than I've been all week.

Reaching for my hand across the armrest, Keller intertwines his fingers with mine and kisses the back of my palm. "It'll be just fine," he assures me.

He doesn't know my grandmother. The hundreds of texts she sent me say today will be anything but fine. I replied, sending back a couple of messages every day.

Me: It wasn't working. It's not just the distance.

Me: I'm sorry you're disappointed, but I wasn't in love with Noah. He wasn't in love with me either.

Me: Yes, I'll be there Friday.

Me: No, I don't want to speak to Noah anymore. We've said all that needs to be said on the subject.

Me: It's my life, Grandma.

If anything, my replies incensed her.

No, today won't be fine. But Keller's here, so he'll make it all better after.

* * *

For the tenth time, I try to dissuade Keller from escorting me. “You’re sure you don’t want to, like, stay in the awesome suite?”

“What would I do in the suite?” he asks, genuinely baffled.

“Study?” I offer. But that’s stupid; he didn’t lug all his books along with him. “Or you could go shopping.”

If I learned one thing last week it’s that Keller genuinely loves shopping. Especially shopping for stuff for me to wear. Whenever I wear the clothes he picked, I catch a look of smug appreciation. And he adores removing them from me.

“In Michigan?” he says, the same way some people might say, in hell. “Do you guys even have decent shopping places here?”

I think for a second. “I’d be offended, but I truly don’t know.”

Firstly, because I don’t know what stores he would consider decent, and secondly, because I could never have afforded them, or been allowed to shop there before, so I never looked.

“I’m not going to barge in and introduce myself to your grandmother,” he reassures me, pinpointing the reason behind my hesitancy. “You have good reasons to not want that yet. I’ll respect it. But you’re also going in knowing that this will be a fucking terrible time. So I’ll be there. At the cafe. I checked—there’s one a few doors away from her room. You deal with her, you come find me when you’re done, and we’ll go shopping. How about that?”

He truly does get me, doesn’t he? He cuts through all the bullshit, straight to my problem, and dishing out nothing but support and reassurance. It’s crazy that he’s able to understand me so well, so fast.

“In Michigan?” I echo his outraged tone. “I don’t think so.”