The heart I gave him.

He’s taken it, and given it back to me.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I open my eyes. There is sunlight.

“Good morning,” Alexander says.

At some point in the night, I must have turned toward him. Because he’s right there in front of me, also waking up.

“Good morning,” I say.

He doesn’t look confused. He doesn’t look surprised. He understands why we’re in his bed, fully clothed. He remembers the tree house. He remembers meeting me in the bookstore. It’s unusual, for sure—it’s not the kind of thing that happens every day. But it’s possible. On a very lucky day, it’s possible.

He looks so happy. And completely unafraid to show it.

“Why don’t I make breakfast?” he says. “I seem to recall my parents left us with plenty of breakfast options.”

“Breakfast would be good,” I say, sitting up and stretching out.

“Okay,” he replies. But he doesn’t make any move to go. He just looks at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says, bashful. Then he corrects himself. “No. Not nothing. The opposite of nothing. I’m just really glad you’re here. And I’m looking forward to another day with you, if you’ll do me the pleasure.”

“Breakfast first,” I say. “Then we can figure this out.”

“Sounds good,” he says, bouncing out of bed. “Help yourself to clothes, towels, shampoo, books, Post-its—whatever you need.”

“Will do.”

He teeters in the room for a moment. He looks so sweet.

“I love this, whatever it is,” he says.

I can’t help but smile back at him. “Yes,” I say. “Whatever it is.”

“No oatmeal, right?”

“Yup. No oatmeal.”

He whistles as he heads downstairs. I listen until he’s too far to hear.

His laptop sits on his desk, beckoning me.

I know what I should do. I know what A wants me to do.

Only, I’m stubborn now.

I like Alexander. But I want A.

I want to find A.