I chuckle as my welling panic starts to dissipate, replaced instead with the typical sense of mediocrity that creeps in right before or right after I see my mom.

“She wants me to be the best version of myself, but the way she sees it. Fully confident, not as bookish, happily engaged to the heir of a Greek shipping tycoon.”

“That specific?”

“More or less.”

“Well,” Ryan says, still methodically squeezing and releasing my shoulders, “a wise woman once told me that we’ll never regret the times we talk to our parents, only the times we don’t. And I know I’m the last person who should be giving you advice, but you’re incredible, Kara. And if your mom doesn’t see that, she’s just not looking at you the right way.”

A too distant sensation of feeling truly happy in my own skin starts to sprout inside me, and I bring my hands up to rest on top of Ryan’s.

“Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s the truth. And don’t you forget it.”

I can’t help myself. I lace my arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss that’s soft and sweet but still filled with the promise of what’s to come later. He looks slightly dazed and almost shy when I pull away.

“Okay,” he says, “and now Duke and I are going to get out of here before I say or do something stupid and ruin the moment.”

“What could you possibly do to accomplish that?”

“I can’t be sure. Something weird. And considering you’re still wearing my sweatshirt, there’s a solid chance it’d be inappropriate.”

“I think I like it when you’re inappropriate.” My arms are still wrapped around his neck as I pull him in a little closer, bringing myself flush against him.

Ryan lets out a slow breath. “You are going to be the death of me, Sullivan.”

I push him away with a playful smile. “Have a nice walk.”

“Surprise!” My mother, wearing khaki dress pants and a pale pink top, kisses my cheek and crosses the doorway into the apartment.

“Wow,” I say, feigning astonishment, “I can’t believe you’re here.” I close the door and follow her into the living room.

Dear God, please let me pull this off.

“It’s so good to see you,” I go on. “I’m sorry I’ve been out of touch this week. I’ve been a little preoccupied with writing.”

Mom sits down on the couch, placing her purse and a shopping bag down next to her. “I understand that you’re busy and you have a deadline, but it’d still make me feel better if you kept checking in. You know I worry about you.”