When we left the coffee shop, Peter put his hand on my lower back as we walked through the doorway and kept it there for a few beats before we headed back toward where Mrs Landon would be waiting for me.

“I really enjoyed today,” I told him. “I’m sorry if I freaked out a little bit earlier. Thank you for not freaking out on me.”

“I’ve had a great time too.” Peter’s brow furrowed, as though he was trying to figure out how to tell me he thought it was best if we didn’t meet again. Not that I could blame him. My life was a circus, and even as a friends-only arrangement, it was a lot to take on. And just when I thought he was about to let me down as gently as he could, he didn’t. “I mentioned last week that it had been too long since I’d seen a stage production, and that got me thinking, which got me googling. Have you ever been to the Bootleg Theatre?”

I shook my head. It was an old 1930s warehouse that had been made into a theater. “No, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“The local amateur production of West Side Story is running for the next few weeks, but only on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. I’d like to catch it, if you want to come with me. It will be my treat.”

“Really?” I was sure I was grinning like a madman. “I’d love that! Though I can pay for my own ticket.”

Peter’s smile was pure relief. “I know you can. But I’d like to pay for this. The show starts at seven o’clock, but we can text and work out the details. Is that okay with you?”

Was I okay with going out at night, alone with Peter? If the question was did I trust him, then the answer was yes. “That’s very okay with me.”

Then he stopped walking, faced me, and took my hand. “Yanni, I know we’ve both said that we’re not ready to date yet.”

Oh God. I was not ready for this. And I was also not ready to lose him as a friend. If he asked me now, I would have to let him down. It felt like our new friendship was screaming down a dead-end street.

“I just want to reiterate,” he continued, “that that’s not what this is. I’m not ready to date again yet, and I don’t think you are either, from what you’ve told me. But I really enjoy spending time with you. I like how easy our conversations are. So if you’re happy to continue having non-dates with me, I’d really like that.”

I almost sagged with relief, and I was sure he could tell. “Non-dates are perfect. And I really enjoy spending time with you too.” He was still holding my hand, so I gave his fingers a squeeze. “Thank you. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

He smiled beautifully. “Me too.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I let go of his hand so I could check the message.

I’m at the corner.

“It’s Mrs Landon,” I said out loud for Peter’s benefit. “She’s parked up at the corner, so I better get going. Thank you for a great afternoon.”

“My pleasure. Have fun checking out your new house tomorrow. You’ll have to text me and let me know how it goes.”

Oh, I’d forgotten about that. “I will. We’ll talk soon though, okay?”

He had a peaceful look about him, his lips upturned in a slight smile, his eyes bright and happy. He gave me a nod, and I turned and raced to Mrs Landon’s car. When I climbed in, she gave me a knowing look. “You’ve had a good day.”

“I have!” Then I proceeded to give her a rundown of the movie, my mini meltdown, our conversation that followed, and how good Peter was about the whole thing. I told her about his non-date speech, how despite our age differences, we were both kind of at the same place. We valued our friendship, as new as it was, because we just clicked.

“He asked me to go to the theater with him. It’s during the week,” I explained. “So if it’s okay with you, we’re going to work out the details later.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “He sounds very nice.”

“He is. He’s just a normal guy who happens to like old movies and theater, just like me.”

“Are you comfortable going out at nighttime with him?”

I snorted. “I asked myself that very question. And I am comfortable with him. He’s confident, but not in an arrogant, horrible way. More like, he knows himself well enough not to apologize for anything. My ex was the arrogant kind.” A cold shiver ran through me. “The horrible kind. But Peter isn’t like that. And I know I don’t know him that well, but I feel safe around him. I never felt like that with… him.”

“I’m really glad to hear that.” Mrs Landon gave me an eye-crinkling smile. “Are you looking forward to seeing your new house tomorrow?”

“Yes!” And I was excited. It felt so unreal to be finally getting my own place, given that not so long ago, I was officially homeless and standing in line for a cot in a shelter. It was kind of hard to get my head around. “You know, I was telling Patrice that I was frustrated with how long this road to recovery would take. Because some days it feels like I’m not moving forward fast enough. I want to be better, and I want to be able to put this behind me right now. But then I remember that only last month I was on the streets. And before that I was still… I was still living with… him. And I realize things are moving faster than what they might seem.”

Mrs Landon looked so proud that she just might burst. Her eyes grew misty, but she shook it off. “No making me cry while I’m driving.”

But when we got out of the car, she gave me a squeezy kind of hug. “There’s no right or wrong on the road to recovery. You go as fast or as slow as you need, and we’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Then it was my turn to cry.

* * *

The house I was going to be moving into was a two story, semi-detached. It had white walls and a terracotta roof, and from the outside, it looked like a happy place. Built in the 40s, it was probably once a huge single house but had since been converted into two separate places. There were four bedrooms upstairs with one shared bathroom. Downstairs was the kitchen and a living room. I could tell by the décor it had been remodeled in the 80s, but it was bright and had a good feeling about it.

I had a quick peek inside the room that would be mine, but considering the girl I was replacing was still living there, I didn’t want to intrude. Her name was Merry; she was short, had a bun on either side of her head, and wore a huge smile. She gave Mrs Landon a sweeping hug, which Mrs Landon seemed used to getting from her, then she pulled me into the room by the hand. “Don’t be silly! Of course you can see it. This will be your room soon. The bed is super comfy. I wish I could take it with me. The closet is small, but not the worst I’ve come out of.” She winked at me. “The hot water is best early mornings or late at night. There’s a Vietnamese store, like two blocks down; they have the best produce. And the bakery half a block up makes the best cinnamon rolls, if you do carbs. Laundromat half a block west. And there are about ten coffee shops in a three-block radius, so take your pick.” She used her hands as she spoke wildly about the area, and I wished she was staying.

“Have you met everyone else yet?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “They’re all great. Skylar is awesome, and she makes the best spaghetti Provençale. We’re all supposed to cook for ourselves, you know, learn to be independent, how to shop on a budget, et cetera.” She waved her hand. “But if you sling her a few bucks, she’ll make you some, and it’s cheaper than takeout, right?”

I found myself smiling at her. “Right.”

“Jordan’s kinda quiet, and she keeps to herself. She’s okay, just strictly not a people person, and that’s okay. No loud noises or yelling around her and you’re golden.”

“I don’t like loud noises or yelling either,” I offered lamely, wondering if this Jordan had been through something similar to me. I hoped like hell she hadn’t.

Merry tilted her head and gave me a smiley-frown. “You poor thing. You’ll be good here. This place will fix you. It’s like the best thing ever.”

I felt a wave of emotion come over me, and I let out a nervous laugh so I wouldn’t cry.

“Then there’s George.” Merry gave me a wink. “He’s totally goth, and he looks kinda grumpy, but he’s a big ol’ softie. You’ll love him.”

Wow. This was a lot to take in.

“So, um, so where are you going?” I regretted my personal question as soon as I’d asked it.

“I’m moving into a place with some college friends. My time here is done. I’m ready to move on and let someone else move in.”

“How long were you here for?”

She gave me another one of those frowny-smiles. I wasn’t really asking how long she’d lived here. I was asking how long it took her to get better. “Twelve months. Some are here longer, some just a few months. Everyone’s different. Don’t rush it.”

I needed to change the subject before my heart clawed its way out of my throat. “Nice room, though. Thanks for showing me.”

She linked our arms and led me out and showed me the bathroom quickly, then bypassing a smiling Mrs Landon, she dragged me down the stairs and into the kitchen, where three other people stood, who had very clearly been talking about me because their conversation stopped cold. “Oh good, we’re all here,” Merry announced. “This is Yanni. He’ll be taking my room.” She made introductions. “Jordan, George, and Skylar.”

They each looked about twenty years old. Skylar smiled and gave a bit of a wave. Jordan crossed her arms and tried to make herself smaller, but she gave me a nod. And George, dressed in all black with black hair masking half his face and black lipstick, murmured the only word. “Cool.”

Merry turned to me triumphantly. “Right, then. I have to go or I’ll be late for my shift. See you guys later tonight.” And with that, she was gone.

I looked at my three soon-to-be roommates. “Thanks for letting me have a look around,” I said, not sure where I found the courage to speak.

Mrs Landon walked in, thankfully taking the attention off me, and quickly got herself hugs from each of them. They were all so happy to see her. Skylar was the most vocal. “It’s so good to see you again,” she said. George’s goth demeanor cracked a little when he smiled as he took his turn, and Jordan hugged Mrs Landon fiercely, and Mrs Landon held on to her the longest.

It was pretty hard to ignore that the four of us were all so very different, yet not that different at all. Something had happened to each of us that had brought us here.

We were only there for a few minutes after that, and by the time we got back into the car, I was feeling very positive. I was nervous, but in a good way.

“Like it?” Mrs Landon asked, though I was pretty sure she already knew my answer.

I nodded. “They seem pretty cool.”

“How did you feel about the house? It has a good energy, right?”

“Yes! I knew it would be good before I even walked in. It looks happy even from the street. Though I kind of wish Merry was staying. I really liked her.”

“She’s great, isn’t she?” Mrs Landon pulled the car out onto the street. “But the others are great too.”

“They’re all pretty different,” I admitted.

“Individual,” she corrected me gently. “Different would imply outside the norm.”

“Sorry. Individual.”

She gave me a warm smile. “You’re gonna do great there. I just know it.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, I was lying on my bed looking at random stuff on the internet, waiting for my washing to be done, when my phone rang in my hand. Startled, I almost dropped it. It hadn’t ever rung before―only ever beeped with an incoming message.

Peter-Charlie-Chaplin’s name flashed on screen, and I smiled before I answered. “Hello?”

“Hello to you too.” His voice was deep and smooth. “Is it okay if I call? I wasn’t sure if you preferred messaging, but I was just wondering how your house inspection went this morning?”

My blood warmed, knowing he’d remembered but also that he’d thought of me. “It was great. It’s just a shared house, but I met the other three I’ll be living with, and they all seem pretty cool.”

“That’s really good, Yanni. I’m glad it went well.”

I smiled at the ceiling. “Yeah, me too. I was worried it wouldn’t be the right place for me. But I think it’ll be good.”

“Excellent! So what did you do this afternoon?”

“Laundry.”

He laughed. “Glamorous.”

I snorted. “Oh so glamorous. Though to be honest, it’ll be more glamorous than the laundromat I’ll be using in a few weeks.”

“Ah, I remember those days.”

“Like the olden days?”

He gasped. “I’m not that old.”

I laughed. “I’m just kidding. What did you do this afternoon?”

“Fixed a wheel on the wagon, sent a telegram, listened to the gramaphone. You know, olden-day stuff.”

I laughed again, letting my free hand fall from my hair to the bed. I couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed. “So tell me, when’s West Side Story showing again?”

“It shows on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The theater hosts other things on weekends, like bands and other live shows, apparently. So is during the week okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Is Tuesday okay with you?”

“Sure.”

I didn’t want to have to explain that I had therapy on Wednesdays and it usually left me drained.

“This week or next?”

“This week,” I answered, probably a little too quickly. I knew I sounded eager, and while part of me cringed inside, the other part of me wanted him to know I was looking forward to it.

“Perfect. I can come pick you up if you’d like. It’s no big deal.”

My stomach clenched. The truth was, yes, I trusted Peter. And while I thought of the Landons’ house as my security fort, I would be moving out in under three weeks and I needed to get used to being a little more exposed. “Can I let you know about that?” Then, because I sounded like a school kid needing his parents’ permission, I added, “It’s just, I don’t know what the Landons are doing on Tuesday night, and given I’m staying with them, I need to respect their house rules, that’s all.”

“It’s fine, Yanni. You don’t need to explain anything.”

I sighed, then I remembered something. “Oh, what are you doing on Sunday in two weeks from now?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ll have to check. Why?”

“Well, the Landons are hosting some fancy lunch thing, and I’d really like to not be here. I can’t do crowds that size, especially of famous people.”

Peter snorted. “I’ll check my calendar and get back to you. If I’m free, I’m yours. We can grab some lunch and go to a museum or something. I haven’t done that in a while.”

I wanted to hug my phone. “Sounds perfect.”

“Excellent! Okay then, well, I’ll let you get back to your laundry. And let me know if you need a ride on Tuesday night.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” There was a pause, then, “Bye, Yanni.”

“Bye, Peter.”

When he ended the call, I put my phone to my chest and smiled. It was ridiculous that so much of my happiness rested on Peter’s shoulders, and I made a mental note to ask Patrice about that, but for now, I let myself bask in this moment. For the first time in a long time, I was happy and felt I was really getting my shit together.

I rolled off the bed and went and finished my laundry.

* * *

I’d decided that having Peter pick me up on Tuesday evening was a good idea. A test of sorts. It played on my nerves a little, or maybe it was anticipation.

Getting ready, I’d done and redone my hair twenty times, though my curls refused to be tamed. I had a love-hate relationship with my hair. I thought the floppy curls made me look younger, which I hated. But I couldn’t bear to wear it short.

Once, after my ex had grabbed handfuls of my hair and yanked me to the floor, I took clippers to it and gave myself a buzz cut. Needless to say, it hadn’t gone over well, and I’d never been sorrier…

Every time I looked in the mirror for the two weeks after that, I looked at my shorn hair and would forever associate it with the black eye and cut lip that came with it.

So I’ve worn it longer, like a halo of dark black curls, ever since.

Tonight, because we were going to the theater, even if it was for an amateur show with student-priced tickets, Mr Landon insisted I wear a vest over my shirt. I was sure it was part of his three-piece Armani suit, though I refused to look at the label. It was gray, and with simple black pants and a teal shirt that Mrs Landon swore matched my eyes perfectly, I felt pretty good.

When Peter arrived, he spoke through the intercom at the gate. Mr Landon gave him a code, then much to my horror, he met him at the front door. “Please, come in,” Mr Landon said.

If Peter was shocked, he certainly didn’t show it. “Thank you. You have a very beautiful home.”

Mr Landon extended his hand. “Please, call me Allan.”

“Peter.” They shook hands, and Peter shot me an amused look.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed silently, and it only made him smile wider.

Mr Landon then proceeded to give Peter a rundown of rules and expectations, ending with, “Now, I know this isn’t a date, per se, but you’re taking our Yanni out at night, and I need you to know that we take his safety very seriously.”

I couldn’t even be mortified. He’d said our Yanni…

“Of course,” Peter said earnestly. “And I appreciate your concern for him.” He took his wallet out and found a business card. “This has all my contact details. If you need.”

Mr Landon seemed pleased with this, and they discussed our plans for the evening and approximately what time we’d be returning while I took a minute to get my thoughts together. Mr Landon had called me our Yanni, as in, I belonged to them. With them. My heart ballooned in my chest, and I’d lost track of their conversation, suddenly realizing they’d stopped talking and were both watching me.

“Oh, pardon?”

“Nothing,” Mr Landon said with a smile. “You have a good night. I want to hear all about the performance, okay?”

I nodded and said my goodbyes, but before I got out the door, I turned and gave Mr Landon a crushing hug. “Thank you.”

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

He let go of me, and I gave him a nod before I turned back to Peter. “We ready?”

I was pretty sure Peter knew he’d just witnessed a bit of a moment between Mr Landon and me. He gave me a warm smile. “If you are?”

I nodded quickly and opened the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” Peter said to Mr Landon.

“Same,” he replied. “Have a fun evening, gentlemen.”

We walked to Peter’s car. Now, I knew very little about cars, but I knew his was sleek, black, and sexy. He opened my door for me, which was surprising and very sweet, though his smile was telling. When he got into the car, he had to bite his lip so he wouldn’t grin.

“I’m so sorry,” I said quickly. “I had no idea he was going to give you the third degree.”

Peter slid the gearstick into first, the car purred, and we slowly made our way down the drive. The security gate opened automatically, and we made our way down the darkening street. “It’s really no problem, Yanni. It’s just been a long time since I’ve had to meet the parents before a non-date.”

I cringed. “Well, they’re not my parents,” I offered lamely.

Peter reached over and took my hand. “I know, and I didn’t mean anything by it, sorry. And Allan might not be your actual father, but I’m pretty sure he thinks of you as one of his kids.”

“He called me ‘our Yanni.’”

Peter’s smile was huge and warm. “I know.”

My heart did that balloon thing again, and I didn’t even try to hide how happy it made me. “He’s really nice. They both are. I’m very lucky.”

Peter squeezed my hand. “And you look very handsome tonight.”

“Oh.” Flattery was something I didn’t wear well. Like I expected an insult to follow swiftly after it. Of course, there was no insult, only another gentle squeeze of my hand. It was then I remembered my manners. “You too! I mean, you look great.” And he did. He wore a blue blazer over a plain white shirt and dark pants; his graying hair was short, a little spiky, and styled perfectly. Though I was sure he managed the stylish, modern fortyish man look without even trying. “Do you even try for sophisticated and polished, or does it come natural?”

Peter laughed as he drove. “I’m… perceptive… when it comes to fashion, and I spend hours in the gym a week.”

“Perceptive?”

“This is LA. I just look around to see what the latest trends are. The social pages of the papers, that kind of thing.”

“The papers? As in newspapers? Are they still a thing?”

He shot me a playful glare. “I’m not that old.”

Now I squeezed his hand. “No, you’re absolutely not. I’m just kidding.”

He glanced at his dash. “So, did you want to eat first? We have some time, and I’m sure there are a few restaurants close to the theater.”

“Uh, sure. Sounds good.”

By some kind of miracle, we found a parking spot close by, and walking into the restaurant, Peter held the door for me and put his hand on my lower back. He was a gentleman, thoughtful and kind, and I liked the way he maneuvered himself to be protective of me. I felt… treasured.

I tried not to read too much into it, and I tried not to let dangerous things like hope and anticipation take root. We ordered tapas and lime sodas. “Did you want a glass of wine?” I asked. “You’d be more than fine to drive after the show.”

Peter inhaled through his nose, like he was steeling himself. “I don’t drink. My uh, my father was a drinker.”

“Oh.”

He tried to smile. “Sorry. It’s not something I make a habit of sharing, but you’ve been honest with me when I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you.”

“Honesty is important to me, so thank you for telling me. But there’s a difference between simply divulging all you’re comfortable with and lying.”

One corner of his lip curled up. “True.”

“So it’s probably fairer to say that while I appreciate honesty, my true issue is with deceit.”

Peter studied me for a moment, as he toyed with his glass with his long thick fingers. “You’re wiser than your age suggests.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Is that a dig at my intelligence or my age?”

He laughed, just as the waiter arrived with our tapas. He placed the platter in the middle of the table and a small plate in front of each of us, and I instinctively slid my hands under my thighs. Peter served himself, then stopped. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Oh, God. “Oh, yes, sorry. Habit.” I set about serving myself some stuffed olives and shaved pancetta while ignoring Peter’s gaze. I knew I’d said the wrong thing so I changed tack. I took a mouthful of bread, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar. “This is good.”

Peter chose the pancetta instead and hummed thoughtfully. “It’s very delicate.”

I pretended not to acknowledge that he was referring to me.

He frowned. “You can veto me at any time, but may I ask you a question?”

I sipped my soda and took my time to answer. He was giving me an out if I chose it, but he’d also been honest with me. “You want to know why I said the word habit.”

Peter wiped his mouth with his napkin and never broke eye contact. It wasn’t a look that bored into me. It was a gentle gaze that encouraged and reassured. Well, this was one way to ruin the mood of our non-date.

“I wasn’t allowed to eat unless I was told to. For a long time.”

He stared, unfaltering, like he was trying to be strong for me, and his only tell was the flare of his nostrils. “Your parents did that to you?”

I shook my head. “No. All my parents did was disown me and kick me out. It was my ex who played the mind games.”

Peter looked like he’d swallowed something particularly unpleasant, and his eyes flinched. “I’m sorry.”

“Deciding if I was allowed to eat was probably one of the nicest things he did.” I swallowed hard. “Sorry for bringing it up, but in light of my speech on honesty earlier…”

“Please, don’t apologize. I was the one who asked.”

I gave him the best smile I could manage. “Mr and Mrs Landon have been working with me on the food thing. Trying to help me not wait for permission, and I’d been doing well. I guess I forgot tonight, given I’m a little out of my comfort zone.”

Peter started to stand. “Do you want to leave?”

I grabbed his hand. “No. I want to finish this tapas, then go to the theater. I want to take back what that bastard took from me and start living my life again.”

Peter’s eyes flashed with emotion, and for a brief, frightening moment, I thought he might shed a tear. But he laughed. “Oh, Yanni, you are something special.”

* * *

The show was wonderful. Raw, unpolished, and completely authentic. When we left, it felt utterly natural for me to slip my arm through Peter’s as we walked back to his car. Growing up, I used to be such a touchy-feely person, always throwing my arms around someone, holding their hands, sitting on their laps. But I hadn’t been that way in a long time, and I did it now with Peter, almost without thinking, like it was something we did all the time. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, from his smile, I thought he liked it.

“What did you think of it?” Peter asked.

“The performance? Yeah, it was great! It just makes me more determined to do it, you know? Getting my shit together, get through college, then who knows, one day that might be me up there on stage.”

“You’ll get there, I know you will.” He seemed so adamant. “How much longer do you have in college?”

“I got through two years, so I have one year left. Hopefully I’ll finish at LASPA.”

“You’re enrolled to start already?”

“Yep. Classes start in three weeks. Mr Landon’s been really busy getting schedules and subjects organized. Mrs Landon helps him too, of course. In between the school and her job at the Acacia Foundation, she’s been helping me put together a list of things I’ll need when I move out.”

“So you’ll be moving out, then a few days later starting school? You will be busy.”

“I know, right? I’m actually looking forward to it. It’s a bit scary, but it feels right.” Then I thought of something. Disappointment sunk in my belly like a stone. “Oh. I have to find other work, probably at a coffee shop or restaurant, and that usually means Saturday shifts. But I still want to see the Charlie Chaplin matinees with you, so I’m not sure how that will work out.”

Peter smiled serenely. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out. If we can’t do the weekend matinee, then I might have to buy the entire DVD collection and a lot of popcorn.”

I grinned, my excitement showing on my face. “I’d really like that.”

We arrived at Peter’s car, and he opened my door, waiting for me to climb in before closing it behind me. A moment later he slid in behind the wheel, and we chatted as he drove me home. When he passed through the security gate, I was suddenly nervous. I wasn’t sure what non-date protocol was. He kissed me on the cheek once before, and tonight I’d linked my arm with his. Was a thank you kiss proper etiquette? What were the rules for non-dates? For friends even? Did I want to kiss him?

Yes, a voice answered from somewhere in my subconscious.

Jesus, do I want to kiss him?

Of course I do.

Okay, this ship was sailing into dangerous waters.

“Yanni, you okay?” Peter’s voice startled me. He brought the car to a stop at the front of the house.

“Oh, yes.” I chuckled, embarrassed, nervous. I couldn’t see Mr or Mrs Landon in the doorway or looking out any of the windows and was relieved I didn’t have an audience. “I had a really lovely time, thank you.”

“Me too. We should do this again.”

I nodded. “We should.” Then, before my nerves got the better of me, I leaned over and quickly kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” I said, before scrambling out of the car. I waved him off, trying not to smile too much, just as Mrs Landon met me at the front door. She waved Peter off as well, then pulled me into a hug.

“How was it?”

I tried not to flail, but my answering grin told her all she needed to know.

“The show was great! A small, honest production. I really love the small theaters; they’re more intimate, like you’re almost on stage with them.”

Mrs Landon beamed. “And how was Peter?”

“A true gentleman. I had a small hiccup at the restaurant―I waited for him to give me permission…” I grimaced. “He was honest with me about something else before, so I was honest with him about why I sometimes don’t eat until I’m told, and he was really good about it. He asked if I wanted to leave if I wasn’t comfortable, and I told him I wanted to stay and take my life back!” I finished with a flourish, and Mrs Landon clapped and cheered.

“So we watched the show and it was great. He said we should do it again.”

Mrs Landon sighed dreamily. “He sounds wonderful.”

“He is.” Then I noticed the house was quiet. “Is Mr Landon in bed already? I didn’t know you’d be waiting up for me.”

She patted my hand. “It’s fine, sweetie. I’m off to bed now myself.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. Early start tomorrow.”

We said goodnight, and after getting ready for bed, I lay there staring at the ceiling with a stupid smile on my face. Sure, I still slept with the light on, but I didn’t remember ever being this happy.