I walk toward Grand Central Station. I’ll catch the late train north, toward home. My grand romantic plan failed. I smile ruefully. They always do, don’t they?

The bark of the old oak tree scratches my legs. I lean back into the trunk and lift the binoculars to my eyes. The house is still empty. Will’s not here. I got back to Romeo early this morning, in time for a quick nap, and then work.

I drop the binoculars and lean my head back against the tree. The sun is setting, and the warm air, the singing bugs, and the soft swaying of the branches lulls me.

Will didn’t come. He hasn’t answered his phone or responded to any texts. I let out a long sigh. I should’ve gone back to bed, but something in me needed to come to the old oak.

A twig snaps below me. My eyes fly open. I look down and my heart starts to gallop.

It’s Will. He looks up at me, eyes inscrutable.

“What are you doing in my tree?” he asks.

My eyebrows crease, then I lift my binoculars. “Being a peeping Tom,” I say. A sliver of hope works its way into my heart.

His lips start to curve then stop. He grabs the lowest limb and hoists himself up. He climbs up the tree and spans the fifteen feet in seconds. When he reaches me he sits down next to me on the branch.

“Hello, William.”

“Jessie.”

When he says my name it feels like he’s touched me everywhere—my whole body heats.

He looks forward toward the sunset, not at me. I turn to it too and let my speeding heart slow to a steady rhythm. The sky is dusky blue and painted with bright orange and golden clouds.

“Why were you crying?” he finally asks in a low, quiet voice.

I startle and realize there must be tear tracks on my cheeks. I look over at him. His face is covered in a few days’ worth of dark stubble, he has bags under his eyes and his clothes are dirty and wrinkled. To me, he’s the most beautiful man in the world.

“Because I lost my best friend. The person I love most in the whole world.” My voice is thick with emotion.

He nods solemnly, scoots closer and puts his arm around my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I lost the person I love, too. I thought it was because she didn’t love me.”

“But she does.”

He nods. “She does.”

I let out a sharp exhale. “What happened? Where did you go?”

“London. I got you this.” He shifts and pulls a book from his pocket. “It’s signed. I got you first editions of the entire series, all signed.”

The sliver of hope in my heart grows and I smile at him hesitantly. Smile back, I urge him silently.