i woke up steaming, the sun sinking hot through the high window onto my skin, bare to the world apart from the sheets tangled around my ankles. Oscar’s arm curved over my waist and I adjusted myself slowly so I could gawk at him without waking him up—marvel afresh at how very naked we were.

The mussed bed contrasted with the rest of his newly cleaned apartment, the wood floor cleared of detritus and shining around us like the frame of a painting. We were the messiest things in here. And the most spectacular.

My heart thudded with sudden panic. I hadn’t told Dad where I was staying last night. Maybe he’d assumed I was with Jules. Maybe he knew I was with Oscar. Maybe he didn’t care either way, now that Oscar had finished his symphony. But the thought of him coming down and knocking on the door was a bit much for me.

I slipped out of bed and into underwear. Oscar opened one eye, then the other.

“Morning,” I whispered.

“Noooooo,” he said, burying his face in the mattress. “I’m not ready.”

I crawled onto the bed to kiss the back of his neck. “You are, though. Completely. And it’s ready too.”

He rolled to peer up at me. “Really?”

“Really really.”

“Well, then, what do they need me for?” He swooped me up and pulled me under him while I laughed. “I’ll skip the dress rehearsal and stay here with you, instead.”

“I’m going to the dress rehearsal. And the performance. And I will be a very angry customer if the main attraction doesn’t turn up.”

“I’m your main attraction?” He grinned wolfishly.

“Wildly attractive attraction,” I said, kissing him. “But come on. Don’t be late on my account. I’m already persona non grata, let’s not add to the list.”

“Not true,” he said, but got out of bed anyway.

I was past caring about the opinion of anybody at Amberley—whether they thought I was my mom in miniature, or Nora Junior, or a deranged mud-covered stalker. That talk with Jules had done its work. I felt a new sense of pride in what had happened in April. They’d tried to pull me back in. I’d refused. And as stupid as I’d been in not identifying Nora’s brochures as one big stack of ulterior motives, my eyes were open now.

I would keep refusing. My presence at Amberley for the next two days would be for Oscar alone. I wouldn’t engage with anyone I didn’t expressly need to—not even Dad. I would witness the Summer Symphony’s premiere on my own terms.

Oscar had paused halfway through getting dressed, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror as if confused by his reflection.

“You’re going to be great.” I hugged his waist. “Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about.”