I’d never seen anything like them in the city—and probably never would for the rest of my life after I left for good.

Farther into the orchard, the trees seemed hung with blown-glass replicas of fruit, glossy apples in a rainbow of blushing hues. The air was bright and sweet, suffused with a perfect ratio of sun to chill. It was all the kind of extravagant display that made Thistle Grove seem more like an autumnal snow globe than a real place; an unlikely perfection that made for a very rude awakening once you did the unthinkable and moved away.

“Everything okay, Em?” Linden asked, sounding a little worried. “You’re making kind of a distressing face.”

“It’s just such a perfect day,” I said, tilting my head to squint into the saturated sunshine, unable to keep a little wistfulness from my voice. “Chicago in the fall . . . let’s just say it’s not often like this.”

I’d spent my first Chicago fall crying inconsolably every other day, depressed to the bone by the dreary wetness of so much of the season, the inescapable torment of the icy wind that blew off the lake like a curse. I’d gotten used to the temperamental weather since, and found lots about the city to love, but this reminder of what I’d been missing all these years shook me a little, all the same.

Fortunately, BLTs, fresh-baked cider doughnuts, and strawberry shortcake went a long way toward bolstering my spirits. Even Linden seemed content as we ripped the pastry into bites, more like her irrepressible old self.

“So what happens now?” she asked, dipping a finger in whipped cream and feeding it to Jasper, who thumped his tail and gazed at her with newly adoring eyes. My mustachioed prince had a very fickle heart when it came to food. “Are you two gonna go steady, whatever that even translates to in Avramov? Like, maybe she’ll give you her pet snake or something instead of a varsity jacket?”

“Varsity jackets as a love language, wow. I had no idea you were inhabiting such a 1950s state of mind. And I . . . don’t know what happens next?” I spread my hands. “There was some talk of getting sushi soon before she drove me home, so I’m hopeful we ended on a To Be Continued note.”

A memory of Talia straddling my lap blazed through my mind like a comet; the press of her thighs against mine, the fevered heat of her mouth, the huskiness of that almost moan.

No lie, I was dying for a sequel.

“But if you do end up seeing more of her . . .” Linden said, her face suddenly serious. “What then? I mean, you are planning on being in and out, right? No lingering detours up ahead?”

“Well, yeah,” I said, unsure what she was driving at. “But I figured, that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun while I’m here. We’re both consenting adults, right? And she knows I’m not trying to stay.”