She has a point. It’s already early August. The summer has flown by. It’s been three months since Zander and I broke up, and it feels like a literal lifetime ago. I don’t leave for two more weeks. Maybe I could even push that out by a week or two—and then the school year isn’t even a year. It’s nine months. Nine months sounds so much shorter than a year. Could we actually make it work?

Just as the excitement of possibility rushes over me, I tamp it down. It’s too late. Aiden didn’t break up with me because I was leaving. He never even said he had a problem with it. He broke up with me because I betrayed him. Lied to him. Not just once, but twice. Every minute of our time together was a lie, because I didn’t tell him I was leaving.

“I’m pretty sure he’s over it. I don’t think he’ll forgive me. I don’t know that I’d forgive me.”

Mom lets out an annoyed sigh. “You’re not a monster. Making a mistake doesn’t mean you can’t try to fix it. And … you’ve got nothing to lose.”

That, she’s right about. She must see that I know it too, because her voice sounds optimistic. “All you can do is try. And if he’s over it, then you’ll meet someone at your new school.”

I roll my eyes.

“Or you won’t. You’ll have an awesome senior year being single, and kissing guys for fun, and…”

“Kissing guys for fun is what got me into this.” I try to laugh but it sounds sad.

Aunt Sarah’s chair squeaks as she stands and takes the spot next to me against the counter. “I think your mom’s right.” She sounds surprised.

Mom smacks the countertop. “Finally!” She shakes her head, smiling. “I’ve waited forever to hear that.”

Aunt Sarah throws her hands up. “That’s not my fault—all you had to do was say something that was actually right,” she says.

“I don’t know what to do.” I pick at a little spot on the countertop where I accidentally gouged it with a knife last year. “Do you think we should sand this?” I say, picking at it.

Aunt Sarah smacks my hand. “I think you need to stop picking at it, and we need to tackle one problem at a time.”

“You know what you need to do,” Mom says.

“I do?”

“What would you do if this were one of your stories?”

I laugh, thinking about the shelf of books in my room. I haven’t even read any this summer, I was so distracted by my own love story. And even as I think it, I wonder if it could be true. If love could happen so fast.