“Um . . .” I say, standing up from my hunched position. I rub my sore back; I’m getting old. When have I ever worried about a sore back? “Why? Are you inviting me to go bowling again?”

“Bowling’s on Tuesdays.” Nick taps his fingers on the baked goods case. “There’s this coffee convention in Indianapolis . . .”

I furrow my brow. “There’s an entire convention dedicated to coffee?”

Nick puffs out an exasperated breath. “Chloe. I go to this every year.”

I smile and poke him in the arm. “I know. I was kidding.”

Nick runs his hand through his hair and, with his head tilted down, gives me this annoyed look that is, like, too much for me. When he looks at me that way, it’s like his hands are all over my body even though we’re several feet apart.

“So!” I say more loudly. “Coffee convention. Do you need me to work another shift to cover for you?”

“No. I want you to come with me.”

My mouth drops open, and I quickly close it. “What?”

Nick sighs. “You know how you’re always on my case to freshen things up here? Be more adventurous with what we offer?”

I nod. “Yes, stop being such a boring old man. I do say that often.”

“I’m only two years older than you.”

“Biologically. Spiritually, you’re an elder.”

“Maybe I should rescind this invitation.”

I wave him on. “Keep talking.”

“Since you have some, well . . . good ideas about how we could change things up, I thought maybe you could come, too. See if there are any new roasters we should try in the shop.”

I close my eyes.

“What . . . are you doing?” Nick asks.

“I’m soaking in this moment. The moment when you finally admitted that my ideas are good.”

“I said some of your ideas are good.”

“I believe your exact words were, ‘Chloe, you’re a goddess and a genius and everything you say is golden. I should always listen to every single idea you have.’”

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, but I can hear him smiling as he says it. I open my eyes and feel a jolt when I see him staring at me, his brown eyes looking right into mine with unnerving intensity.

“Indianapolis,” I say, eager to smash the moment into smithereens. “That’s, like, two and a half hours away, right?”

“If you’re a speed demon, sure. More like two hours and forty-five minutes. But it’s gonna be a long day, so I’m planning on spending the night.”

It hits me both quickly and slowly what this means. First the words spending the night go into my ears, then they swirl around in my brain for a moment, then they find their way to my heart and the jolt hits me again and I realize what this means. This means I would be spending the night with Nick in another city.

“Um,” I say, rendered momentarily speechless, able to make only noises.