“It’s a plan.” Some neighbors I didn’t recognize had been in their yard when I’d found a parking spot down the street, and not kissing him hello had been torture. Funny how I could live years and years without kissing and touching, and now a few hours without him had me desperate. Rather than head to the front door, Jasper rounded the house so we’d enter through the mudroom. I knew this place almost as well as the one I’d actually grown up in, and I categorized all the little changes that showed the passage of time—windows with new curtains and not the handmade school art projects that had graced them in the past, newer paint job and storm door, and some unfamiliar garden fixtures.

“Now smile,” Jasper commanded as he opened the mudroom door. “And be prepared to have to scrub up. Mom’s in serious mother-hen mode after the scare over April earlier in the week.”

“I get it. I’d be worried too.”

After hanging up our coats on a crowded rack, Jasper bent to remove his shoes. “Mom? We’re here.”

“Jasper. You made it.” His mom swept into the cluttered but clean mudroom, catching him up in a big hug before turning to me, smile dimming. “And Milo.”

“Hey, Mrs. Q.” I offered her a smile I didn’t quite feel, nerves still making my stomach slosh around. But I did remember my manners. “Thanks for having me.”

“No problem.” Her guarded expression said otherwise. “Leave your shoes here and wash up.”

Carefully lining up my shoes with his, I followed Jasper’s lead in scrubbing my hands like a surgeon prepping for the operating room.

“Smells good,” I observed as we made our way into the kitchen where Jasper’s mom was mincing garlic and supervising a number of pots on the stove.

Jasper’s mom shrugged, not bothering to look my way. “Probably not up to your grandmother’s standards.”

“Nothing ever was.” It was the truth. She’d been an iron-willed woman with strict, exacting rules, and I’d been rather terrified of her as a kid. It was no wonder my mom had stopped trying to live up to her in-laws’ standards, culinary or otherwise. However, when Jasper’s mom deepened her frown, I softened my tone. “I’m sure it’s great.”

“Thanks.” She bashed the heck out of the garlic, making me hope I never pissed her off when she had a cleaver nearby.

“I…” I wanted to apologize, but I wasn’t sure where to start. And would she even believe me? So instead, I squared my shoulders. “Can I help? Set the table?”

“Okay.” She motioned at a nearby cabinet. “You probably know where everything is.”