“You know it’s okay, right? For someone to see the best in you. For them to like the things you’re way too hard on yourself for.”

He blinks as if confused, like I’ve surprised him. Like I’ve left him lost for words. I hate that Jamie doesn’t seem to see himself how I do. I know he’s not perfect, and yes, he has some quirks that make me bananas, but that just makes him human.

When did this happen? Was it his upbringing? His ex? I want to grab anyone who’s made him doubt his worth and knock their heads together.

But for now, maybe it’s just enough to show Jamie what he doesn’t quite believe with words. It’s enough to be here, together, doing . . . whatever this night is that feels different and special and scary all at once.

“I love your painting,” I tell him.

He peers down at the canvas. “It’s awful. Technically, I mean. But I was happy while I did it. I don’t generally like doing things that I’m unskilled at, but painting you from memory, picturing you staring up at the night sky, made it an enjoyable exercise.”

Carefully, I take his painting, and Jamie reaches for mine. We tip our heads at the same time, exploring each other’s portraits. “You stretched yourself,” I tell him.

“So did you,” he says, staring at my canvas. “Simply by coming here. Seemed like the least I could do.”

“Why the night sky?”

“Why do you think?”

I meet his eyes. “Because I like astrology?”

He tugs at his collar, a fresh blush hitting his cheeks. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“You’re seriously worried about embarrassment in front of me? Do you know our track record?”

“Fair point. As I painted, I thought about when we took our walk home, after Pho Ever, and you disappeared into your own world. The way you looked at the stars, with wonder in your eyes . . . It’s one of the loveliest things I’ve ever seen.”

Tears blur my vision as I study his canvas again. “I don’t know how lovely having my head in the clouds is when it means I trip while walking.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he says. “To catch you. Take a drink to the shirt. Or pants.”

“Stop bringing that up!” I reach for his side to tickle him. “That was mortifying.”

“Wait!” Spinning away, he ducks my tickle lunge and holds my portrait like a shield between us. A shield he lowers slowly, then carefully sets on the easel. “I didn’t say it to tease you. I said it because look where it got us.” Searching my eyes, Jamie says, “Bea—”

Grace’s delighted voice interrupts him. “Aren’t you two just the picture of bliss!”