“I had a meeting with a non-profit. It’s called Renovate Chicago. They’re looking for volunteers to come in and help with renovating homes around the city. I’ve always been into interior design, and I’ve been looking to see where I could gather more experience. I was actually talking to Nola about it, and she said her friend got a lot of experience working with a non-profit. So that’s what I decided to do. I found Renovate Chicago, I just had a meeting with them, and they’re going to find a place to fit me in.”

“Babe, that’s amazing.”

Her smile is so big that I take a mental picture. It took a fucking second for her to recover from the dinner with her parents, and I’ve tried to speak positivity into her life as much as possible. I’ve reminded her that her mom is the one who’s spineless, worthless, and not Myla. She won’t unhear her mother’s words overnight, but I’m hoping she’s putting more effort into healing rather than stewing on the shit her mom piled on her.

“I know. I’m really excited. I was hoping to go to the office supply store tonight and grab some things so I could start some planning.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “Well, I can take you now.”

“No, I can wait. I don’t want to blow off Banner.”

Banner takes a long pull from his beer. “Actually, it would be best if you two left. There’s a blonde by the bar that I’m itching to talk to, and this third-wheel shit is making me look pathetic.”

“Are you sure?” Myla asks. “Because we can stay, and you know . . . talk.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, you sound so convincing that you want to be here with me. Seriously, go get your office supplies, maybe grab a late-night hot dog, and let me do my thing with that blonde over there.”

“You sure?” Myla asks, wincing.

“Positive,” he says. “Now get out of here. The longer you stay, the harder chance I’ll have at getting her to talk with me.”

“Doubtful,” Myla says as she sets my beer down.

I reach for my wallet, but Banner holds up his hand. “Jesus Christ, don’t even think about giving me any money.”

“Okay, just checking.”

And then we’re out of the booth, hand in hand with quick goodbyes to Banner. We head out of the restaurant, I get stopped a few times by fans, which Myla is used to by now, and then we’re on the street, walking toward the office supply store.

“I’m really glad the meeting went well,” I say to her as I drape my arm over her shoulders and hold her close. “I love seeing that smile and excitement on your face. It makes me happy.”

“You know, Ryot, I feel for the first time in my life that I know what I’m supposed to be doing. I have direction and purpose. I know that might sound silly, especially to someone like you—”