I look at him, and he just shrugs. “I said I was okay only if you were okay with it.”

“So can we?” Dylan asks.

“We’ll see,” I say, grabbing my purse and then waving to Cheryl. I walk out, and the heat hits me right away. “It’s so hot.”

“Yeah, and it’s only going to get hotter,” Justin says, walking next to me. His fingers graze mine, and he finally wraps his fingers around mine. “They are calling for a heatwave for the next two weeks.”

“So can we have ice cream?” Dylan asks, and I nod my head.

“Only if Justin lets me pay for it,” I say, and Justin stops walking and looks at me and glares.

“Justin, will you let Mommy pay for the ice cream?”

Justin looks at me, and I’m all excited because I finally got the upper hand. “Sure,” he says, and I’m just happy I won until the rest comes out. “But my dad taught me that it’s rude to let a girl pay for ice cream if you like them.” Dylan just looks at me. “And I really like your mom, so if she pays for it …”

“Mom,” Dylan says, “it’s rude if you pay, so you have to let Justin pay.”

“Yeah,” Justin says. “It’s rude for you to let the girls pay. Besides, girls should be treated like princesses, and we all know that no princess pays.”

“Yeah, because the king or the prince pays,” Dylan agrees. “So let’s go get ice cream, and Justin is going to pay because he likes you, and it’s rude if you pay.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Justin says, and I can’t glare at him enough.

I cross my arms over my chest the whole ride there, and then I don’t even talk to him. We walk to the window, and he orders Dylan’s and then looks at me, and I just shake my head. “Dylan, what is your mom’s favorite?”

“She likes the two colors,” he says. “Vanilla and chocolate.”

“Traitor,” I say. Justin just throws his head back and laughs and then comes over and takes me in his arms. He puts one arm around my shoulder and then pulls me to the window.

“Sweetheart, just order your ice cream,” he says quietly. “And the next time you pull a stunt like that,” he says, leaning in just a touch more, “I’ll really throw you over my shoulder.” I should push him away from me. I should tell him that I’ll kick him in the balls if he even so much as tries it, but instead, I stand here while my heart skips a beat, and my stomach flips with butterflies. Even my body is a traitor.

He orders me a vanilla and chocolate swirl and hands it to me. “Here you go, sweetheart.”