“I’m glad you like it.” Ducking his head, Milo reclaimed the sketchbook, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with being bashful. I crawled into his lap on the chair, which probably wasn’t designed to hold both of us but oh well. If it broke, it would be more than worth this moment, his lips on mine, his hands skimming over my body. The kiss went on and on, and him holding me close like this was everything I’d ever wanted.

Buzz. My phone rudely vibrated right in the middle of a decent song and our spectacular kiss.

“That’s my mom’s tone. I need to check it, make sure nothing’s wrong.”

“I felt bad for April tonight. I know she wanted to come.”

“Me too,” I said as I grabbed for the phone and scrolled to my messages. “And yup, that’s what this is about. Mom’s up late because she’s stressed. She wants me to come to dinner after work tomorrow so I can tell April all about the ball, maybe cheer her up with some company.”

“That’s a good plan.” Milo absently stroked my sides like I was a lap cat, and I stretched into the attention.

“You should come.”

“To dinner at your mom’s house?” Hands stilling, he sounded like I’d proposed a public execution.

“You don’t have to sound so horrified. You’ve eaten there before.” I turned so I could see his face better.

“Yeah, but that was back when they liked me.”

“They can like you again.” Just like me. The unspoken words hung between us. But honestly, if I’d found my way to liking Milo again, so could anyone else. “Give them a chance. If they can see you’ve changed—”

“Feels like it might never be enough.” Sighing heavily, Milo held me tighter. “And like, I get it. If I were a parent, I wouldn’t like me either. I was a jerk. They’re entitled to their grudge.”

“Maybe, but they can get over it. Like I said, mad isn’t productive. They—and you—need to move on.” I needed Milo to believe in his own changes even more than I needed my parents to. They could get over their anger because I’d seen it before, but I wasn’t as sure about Milo, who seemed determined to flog himself for all of eternity for past mistakes.

“I get that.” His mouth twisted. “Dinner still feels…”

“Scary? I’m not saying we waltz in there holding hands. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t out you. You can come as a friend. Which you are. And if you’re a friend who’s planning to stick around—”

“I am.” On this point he was firm, and he punctuated the words with a kiss on my forehead.