“Thank God you’re back,” Tobin says, his voice as panicky as it gets.

I pull off my apron. “I have to go talk to Nick. Be right back.”

He lets out a whine like a golden retriever who needs to pee, but I can’t focus on Tobin right now. I march to Nick’s office and swing the door open without knocking.

Nick looks up from his computer. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll come,” I say, then wince. “I mean . . . I’m going with you. To the convention tomorrow.”

Nick raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah. It promises to be an educational and informative weekend.”

He presses his lips together. “Everything okay?”

“Yep!” I spin on my heels and march back toward the counter.

What the hell did I just sign up for?

* * *

“You know we’re only gonna be gone for one night, right?”

Nick stares at my bags, which are in the (roomy, as Milo noted) back seat of his truck.

“Yes,” I said. “That’s why I only have two bags.”

Nick points to his bag, a small, nondescript black duffel. “How could you need more than that?”

I give him an incredulous look. “Um, I had to bring several dresses, because I don’t know what the weather’s going to be like in Indianapolis.”

Nick looks at the truck ceiling. “Chloe. Indianapolis isn’t going to have a vastly different climate from Columbus.”

“But I can’t predict the weather, Nicholas,” I say, and he shoots me a weary look. “And then I have various cardigans depending on which dress I wear, and they’re all different colors so different shoes are required, and then it’s like, no color of lipstick is going to go with all those outfits. I needed to bring options. Plus two books, because I don’t know what I’m going to want to read to help me fall asleep.”

Nick stares at me.

“Fine. Five books.”

“Is it exhausting being you?”

I sigh dramatically. “It is.”

“All right.” Nick starts the truck. “We’re off.”

“Oh wait! I forgot something!”

“You brought all your earthly possessions. Are you kidding me?”

I smile. “Yes. I’m kidding. Let’s motor, baby.”

Am I nervous about being hours away from my dad for most of a weekend? Of course. But Tracey reassured me, passionately and at length, that he would be fine for a couple of days. She reminded me that sometimes I go more than one day without visiting him and he manages, so what’s the difference?

I mean, the difference is that if something does go wrong, I won’t be able to be there within a few minutes, and I’ll blame myself for it for the rest of my natural life. But, you know, no bigs.

If I’m to believe Tracey, it will be good for me to take some time for myself. She might’ve even used the term self-care, which I always thought referred to drinking rosé while taking a bubble bath and wearing one of those paper face masks that make everyone look like a serial killer, but I guess in this instance it refers to going to a coffee convention with my boss.