“Well, Milo sucks,” I say, putting my plate down. “He missed all the calls about Dad because he fell asleep.”

Nick makes a face. “Oof.”

I nod. “Oof is right. I kind of went off on him. Like, this is the one night I’ve actually gone out somewhere, the one night I’ve allowed myself to take a break and not worry about taking care of everyone else, and I can’t even do that! I can’t even have one night because I can’t trust Milo to do anything. It’s only me. It will always just be me. I’m all alone.”

At this point, I realize I’ve been emphatically stabbing the lasagna with my fork, so I take a bite. “This is really good, by the way.”

After chewing for a bit, I notice that Nick isn’t saying anything, so I swallow and turn to look at him. He’s staring at me with those big brown eyes and it makes me feel a little dizzy, even though I’m sitting down. “Uh, what?” I ask.

“You’re not alone, Chloe,” he says, and even though he isn’t touching me, I feel like he is. Or maybe like he should be. So I lean forward and put my head on his shoulder.

“Please give me the biggest hug in the world,” I say into his neck, and he wraps me up in his big, long, Nick Velez arms and everything feels better.

“God, Chloe,” he says. “You’re shivering.”

“Really? Huh. Probably from all the standing in the cold pouring rain I did earlier. Wearing that dress was probably not my greatest idea.”

“No,” Nick says, and even though I can’t see his face I can hear him smiling. “Wearing that dress was a great idea.”

I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling.

Then I remember what else Milo said and my smile disappears. “Oh, and did I mention that my absentee mother is back in town, and Milo’s been hanging out with her, even though she’s the worst?”

“I’m sorry,” Nick says. “That sucks.”

I snort. “Yes. Thank you for acknowledging that fact. It totally sucks.”

“Come on,” Nick says, standing up and pulling me to my feet. “We need to get you warmed up.”

“Can’t I sit here and watch old sitcoms?” I whine.

Nick gestures around his apartment. “No TV.”

My mouth hangs open in disbelief. “But . . . but what do you do? How do you entertain yourself? Do you read bowling manuals?”

But Nick’s walking into his room, toward that big bed, and I am powerless to stop myself from following him. If Nick were a cult leader, I’d be living on a commune and wearing a shapeless robe by now.

“Here.” He pulls back the blankets and gestures toward it. “Get in.”

I do exactly as he says, enjoying the feeling of having someone tell me what to do. It’s nice to not be the one making decisions for once.

He tucks me in under my chin, then sits down on top of the blankets. “How are you feeling?”