“Sorry. I didn’t mean to go there. I don’t want to be that boyfriend who talks about his ex.”

“I actually have a lot of questions, but I don’t want to be that girlfriend who makes you talk about your ex.”

He pulls the sucker out of his mouth. “What do you want to know?”

I think about his question for a moment. There’s a lot I want to know, but I ask him the most pressing question. “When she broke up with you after I gave you a ride that day, why did you seem so heartbroken?” I’ve been wondering how he could seem so affected by it that day but be perfectly okay with it now. It makes me worry he’s hiding something.

His finger gently brushes over the top of my hand. “I wasn’t necessarily upset about her breaking up with me. I was upset because she thought I cheated on her. I didn’t want her thinking that, so I was hell bent on making her believe me.”

“Does she know you broke up with her for me?”

“I didn’t break up with her for you.”

“Oh,” I say, a little taken aback. “You sort of made it sound like you did.”

Miller readjusts himself in the seat, sliding his fingers through mine. “I broke up with her because when I went to sleep at night, I wasn’t thinking about her. And when I woke up in the morning, I wasn’t thinking about her. But I didn’t break up with her just so I could date you. I would have broken up with her whether you and I ended up together or not.”

It doesn’t seem like there’s much of a difference in breaking up with someone for someone else or because of someone else, but it feels like it makes all the difference in the world when he explains it.

“Has it been a weird adjustment? You guys were together for a long time.”

He shrugs. “It’s been different. Her mom never cared if I spent the night at her house on weekends, so Saturday nights at home with Gramps are taking some getting used to.”

“Her mom let you sleep at her house? Like . . . in her bed?”

“It’s unconventional, I know. But her parents are pretty lenient in a lot of areas. And technically, she’s an adult in college. I guess that had a lot to do with it.”

“My mom will never let you spend the night. Just putting that out there.”

Miller laughs. “Believe me, I got that vibe from her. I’ll be surprised if I’m even allowed to visit you in broad daylight.”

I hate that he feels this way. I hate that my mother made him feel this way. And if I’m being honest, it worries me that it’ll be a turnoff for him later down the line, if she never accepts that he’s my boyfriend.

I can’t even believe I’m saying that. Miller Adams is my boyfriend.

We’re both facing each other now, our bodies turned toward each other in the theater seats. It’s so quiet in here that we can hear the rumbling of the movie playing on the other side of the wall.

I try not to think about everything he just said, because now I’m worried about all the times he stayed at Shelby’s house. All the times he slept in her bed. Will he eventually miss that? I’ve never had sex, and with the way my mother has been acting, I’m not sure she’ll ever allow Miller to come over. She might even put a stop to me going out altogether, just to try and break us up. I hope not, but with her behavior this past month, I wouldn’t put it past her.

I feel like Miller has been completely honest with me, so I want to do the same. I pull the sucker out of my mouth and stare at it. “So. Just so you’re aware. I’m a virgin.”

“I know a cure for that,” Miller says.

My eyes flash up to his, but then he laughs. “I’m kidding, Clara.” He leans toward me and kisses me on the shoulder. “I’m glad you told me. But I’m not in any hurry. At all.”

“Whatever. You’re used to getting it every weekend. You’ll eventually grow bored with not having sex, and you’ll go back to her.” I immediately cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God, why do I sound so insecure? Please pretend I didn’t just say all that.”

He laughs a little, but then he looks at me intently. “You don’t have to worry. I already get more out of not having sex with you than I did during my entire relationship with her.”

I like him so much. More than I thought possible. Every minute we spend together makes me like him more than I liked him the previous minute. “When I decide I’m ready . . . I hope it’s with you.”

Miller smiles at that. “Trust me—I’m not going to talk you out of it.”

I think about what our first time might be like. When it’ll be. I look over at him and grin. “Our first kiss was a cliché coffee shop kiss. Maybe losing my virginity should be cliché too.”

Miller raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know. They might ban us from Starbucks.”

I laugh. “I’m talking about prom. It’s five months from now. If we’re still together, I’d like it to be a cliché after-prom deflowering.”

My choice of words makes Miller laugh. He takes his sucker out of his mouth and grabs mine from my hand and sets them on the food tray. Then he leans in and kisses me, briefly. When he pulls back, he says, “You’re getting ahead of yourself. I haven’t even asked you to prom yet.”

“You should ask me, then.”

“You don’t want one of those elaborate promposals?”

I shake my head. “Promposals are stupid. I don’t want an elaborate anything.”

He hesitates, like maybe he doesn’t believe me. Then he nods once and says, “Okay, then. Clara Grant, will you go to prom with me and have cliché after-prom sex with me?”

“I would love to.”

Miller grins and kisses me. I kiss him back with a smile, but I can feel part of myself sinking.

Aunt Jenny would have loved this story.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MORGAN

My kitchen might be cleaner than it’s ever been. I’m not sure if it was because Jonah is an excellent cleaner (he cleaned the majority of it) or if it’s because he’s trying to erase any proof of that near kiss in the kitchen so that we don’t have a single reminder of it.

My guilt has been palpable since Clara left to go to the movies. Jonah must feel the same, because neither of us spoke as we cleaned. And as soon as Elijah began to wake up, I offered to feed him because Elijah is the only thing I feel like I’m doing right in my life. It seems he’s starting to recognize me because he smiles when he sees me.

I’ve been keeping him occupied in the living room for an hour now. Jonah cleaned the entire kitchen. I didn’t expect him to, and even told him not to worry about it at one point, but he kept cleaning. I would have done it, but I was honestly relieved when Elijah woke up. I’d rather not be in the same room as Jonah right now.

Elijah is getting stronger. I’m sitting back on the couch and holding him up while he pushes his legs against my stomach. I’m making baby sounds at him when Jonah carries my kitchen door to the garage.

Elijah yawns, so I pull him to my chest and pat him gently on the back. It’s past his bedtime, and despite the thirty-minute nap he took while Jonah and I destroyed the kitchen, Elijah still seems like he’s ready to pass out. He grows limp against my chest as he begins to fall into slumber. I press my cheek to the top of his head, wishing more than anything that I didn’t grow sad when I think about the hand he’s been dealt.