“I’ve noticed. Tell me about Books 4 Kids,” I say, taking a sip of my wine.

“Is this an inquisition on where your donation is going? I thought we covered that when I picked up the check.”

“I can tell you’re passionate about it and I want to know more about it.”

“I volunteered in my hometown library when I was a teen, tutoring kids with reading disabilities and leading story times for the younger kids. I even learned to play the ukulele to do sing-alongs and make it fun.”

“The ukulele?”

“I wanted to play the guitar, but my hands were too small,” she waves them in front of her, “they still are. The chords were hard to reach on the guitar, so ukulele was a good instrument to learn. You’d have no problem with that, your hands are huge.”

“You’re going to give me a complex.”

“Because of your huge hands?” She laughs. “They’re huge compared to mine but they’re proportionate to your body.”

She doesn’t have to say what she means, it’s implied. It’s convenient I have these large hands to fit around other large parts of my body. Looking up to find Chloe watching me in the shower this morning has been at the forefront of my mind all day.

“I’ve always loved books and reading. When I found out there was an actual career where I could read books for a living, I majored in English literature and set my sights on New York.”

“And you enjoy working at St. Clair Press? With my mother?”

“Your mother, of course. She’s amazing. I’ve learned so much from her.” Chloe stares at her glass of wine before returning my gaze. “I wouldn’t be doing this if it didn’t matter that much to me. It’s not just a job. I love reading stories that the author has poured their heart and soul into with the hopes that it will connect with someone. And when I connect with it and pass it along to JoAnna or an assistant editor, then I feel like I get to share in that effort of putting their story out in the world.”

I expected Chloe to be passionate about her career, but hearing her talk about it like that makes something inside of me crack open. Yes, Chloe made an error in judgment by hosting that party at my mother’s apartment, but I’m the guy who’s been holding her feet to the fire. Making her believe that her career aspirations, of being an editor and helping bring amazing stories into the world, could disappear in an instant.

I’ve been so focused on Fred that I haven’t seen it from her perspective. I haven’t thought about the hours she might spend worrying about what she’ll do if my mother finds out.