She buzzes us out and we walk to Nick’s truck without saying a word. When we stop in front of the passenger door, I finally pull myself out from under his arm and turn to face him.

We’re not in the building anymore. The spell is broken.

“What was that?”

Nick twists his arm to rub the back of his neck. He winces. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I kept thinking about what you told me, about how all you wanted was for your dad to know you were taken care of, and I know I’m not Dave, but—”

I launch myself at him, pulling him into a hug, my arms around his neck and my face pressed into his shoulder. He hugs me back, his arms wrapped around my waist, and he feels so good. Even after a night in a hotel and hours in a truck he smells like Nick, and being held by him is a thirty-second break from my real life. A tiny respite from my responsibilities.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice muffled by his shirt. “He won’t remember that tomorrow, and I know it was weird for you, but he was so happy for a minute there. It was . . . it was nice to pretend. Thank you.”

Nick rubs my back, his strong hands sliding against the fabric of my shirt. “You’re welcome, and it wasn’t weird. I liked being Dave.”

I laugh into his neck. “In addition to the bowling, do you also secretly do improv? You were really ‘yes, and’-ing back there.”

Nick ignores my question. “Is Dave at least hot?”

I pull back and look Nick in the eyes, my hands still around his neck. “Dave had bleached blond spiky hair, like a teenage Guy Fieri, but without the flaming button-down shirts or the love of diner food.”

“So . . . the answer is yes?”

I laugh for real now, my shoulders shaking.

“Can we go home?” I ask, wiping my eyes. “I mean, can you take me to my home?”

“Yeah,” Nick says, giving my shoulders a squeeze. This is all normal friend behavior; I would act this way with Annie or Tracey. And I know that both Annie and Tracey check in on me and offer to help me when I need it. But with Nick, I can’t ignore how different it all feels. Electric. Exciting. I think about what my dad said. You deserve someone to take care of you the way you take care of everyone else.

I’m going to have to bake, like, five pies to work through all this.

Chapter Sixteen

Annie’s finally back in town, praise the Lord, so we do something we haven’t done in quite a while: we hang out at her house while Uncle Don makes dinner.

“Geez,” I say, settling in on the floral couch where Annie and I have watched approximately one million rom-coms. “It’s been ages since my butt has graced these hallowed cushions.”