CARS WHIZ PAST US at LAX Saturday morning when Sutter parks beneath the sign for Terminal Five Departures. A man in a neon yellow and checkered vest motions for cars to keep moving. We aren’t supposed to park or linger, but the thought of leaving him today sends a physical ache to my middle.

Sutter reaches across the center console, taking my hand, and I lean in to give him a PG-rated kiss since Tucker’s in the backseat of the truck.

Tucker sticks his tongue out anyway, and Sutter smirks, signing for him to “look away.”

The car behind us honks and another car honks at that car.

“I’ll get your bags.” Sutter’s lips press flat and he climbs out.

I meet him at the truck’s gate, and he retrieves my suitcases and places them on the curb.

“You’re visiting soon, right?” I ask as he slips his hands around my waist and pulls me against him.

“As soon as I can.”

“Promise?”

He kisses me. “Yes, Melrose. I promise.”

“I’ll call you when I land.”

Sutter kisses my forehead, and when he pulls away, I bask in his honey gaze one last time—for now.

The car behind us honks again and the man directing traffic blows a whistle.

I leave, heart a-flutter, stomach twisted, and chest filled so full of hope and wonderment and anticipation it could burst.

An hour later, I’m through ticketing, baggage, and security, and perched at a corner table just outside the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Sipping an almond latte and paging through my script, I try and focus on my lines. I’ve always had this photographic memory thing when it comes to lines. I can look at them once and have them memorized. Gram says it’s genetic. I think it’s dumb luck.

“Hey, stranger.”

I glance up from page twenty-four to find none other than Ms. Aerin Keane herself standing before me, a work bag hanging off her lithe shoulder and a hard-cased rollaway parked at her heeled feet.

“What are you doing here?” I stand, throwing my arms around her. I’ll never understand how she can travel like this—in a pant suit with a full face of makeup and heels, but she’s always been the Queen of Preparedness and a true work horse. Always ready.

“I have a job in New York,” she says. “Just a contractual, thirty-day thing.”

“You didn’t tell me this.” I swipe my hand at her. “Sit down. Talk to me. Do you have time?”

Aerin checks her Apple Watch and bites her lip. She’s always been the type who needs to be the first passenger to arrive at the gate. She likes to get the best seat—preferably by a charger so she can work on her laptop while she waits for the boarding call—and she likes to have a seat closest to where the line begins, so she doesn’t get stuck at the back of the crowd.

“I have a couple of minutes.” She takes the chair across from me, lowering herself into the seat and crossing her legs. “So what’s new? I haven’t talked to you since Tuesday night at The Bungalow.”

I reach for my coffee, smiling and rolling my eyes but in the most content of ways.

Where do I begin?

“Oh. I heard Nick was back in town,” Aerin adds. “Have you seen him?”

“Yeah, actually,” I say. “He, um … did this whole thing Thursday where he basically said he’s loved me our whole lives.”

“What? No way. What did you say? You’ve always kind of had a thing for him, too, right?”

I only met Aerin a few years ago, and while she’s quickly become one of my closest friends, I’ve always tended to underplay my childhood crush on Nick. Maritza is the only one who ever knew because she was always more of a sister than a cousin to me growing up. Plus she was there from the beginning too. She understood.

“It’s the strangest thing ...” I hold my coffee between both palms, staring down at the brown table top. “I thought Nick was what I wanted …”

Pulling in a deep breath, my eyes lift to hers.

“ … and then I met Sutter,” I say.

Aerin rests her chin on the top of her hands, listening but not gasping or giving me a wide-eyed look of any kind.

“You’re acting like you’re not surprised.” I chuckle.

“Because I’m not.” She sits up straight. “I could tell there was something going on between you two at the bar the other night. The way you looked at each other. The way you were so casual together, like you were comfortable. And he never took his eyes off you once, Mel. Not in a creepy way or anything, but he was always making sure you were safe. That no one was bothering you. That you made it home safe. Those kinds of things.”

“Really?” This is news to me.

“There aren’t a lot of guys like that. Not anymore. And definitely not in L.A.,” she says. “Hang onto that one. Hang on tight and never let him go.”

“That’s the plan.” A slow smile paints my mouth and I can only envision the dreamy, far-off look in my eyes.

Aerin stands, checking her watch again. “I should get to my gate.”

“Yeah, they’re probably going to be boarding in a couple of hours ...”

“Hush.” She fights a smirk.

I rise, giving her another hug. “Have fun in New York.”

“Have fun shooting. Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

Aerin wheels her bag away, heels clicking on the tile floor as she disappears into a crowd of travelers, and I return to my script.

I miss him already.