“Don’t be a smartass, Neil.” She says the words with a smile. “The two of you were cute. I totally bought the lie.” She gives me a slap on the knee.

“Really?”

“You fooled me.”

“Yeah, well … I fooled myself too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I let feelings get in the way,” I tell her. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

She’s got that look in her eyes that tells me she isn’t ready to let this go. But she relents. “Okay … but I’ve got ears if you ever want to talk.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I say something else to you?”

“If you want to, yeah. I guess I could use any advice you have.”

“When you’re seventeen, or sixteen, or eighteen, or even twelve …” She pauses. “Basically, when you’re your age, everything feels like the end of the world. Everything feels so big, like it’s going to impact you for the rest of your life. But that’s just a part of life, a part of relationships. Fucking up, apologizing, learning what you can do better, what you should do different. Being scared of messing up just shows that you care. There are some things you need to be careful about, decisions you need to think long and hard about. But you also need to let yourself have your feelings, to stop being afraid of going after what you want, of going out and getting it.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Yeah, it is,” she says. “But in twenty years, do you think you’ll regret not talking to Wyatt?”

I don’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then fix it.”

“He’s not going to forgive me. I hurt him,” I say. “And I’m scared.”

“I think we’ve learned a lot about apologies in the last ten minutes.” She breathes carefully. “But in my experience, I’ve learned that the things worth doing are what scare us the most.”

I look up at her, at the honesty in her eyes.

“And falling in love is one of the scariest things in the world,” she continues. “The both of you were cute together, even if Wyatt didn’t know how to dress.”

“Mother …”

“Is his closet made of flannel?”

I can’t stop myself from laughing. “Yeah, kind of.”

“He is sweet, though, and most importantly, he has manners. Most people don’t know the difference between a salad and a dinner fork.”

We both laugh together.

“Give him a chance and apologize. You never know what might happen. And you know I’m not a woman who apologizes frequently.”

“Yeah … I know.” I stop myself. “That I need to apologize.”

She gives me a glare. “You should. He’s a good kid. At least from what I saw.” And then, very suddenly, she stands up, smoothing out her dress.

“How ready are you for this to be over?”