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“Okay, let’s recap. So you went to Columbia. Then what? Wrote your first bestseller freshman year?”

“Actually, it was my senior year.”

“You’re kidding?” he says, his voice brimming with pride.

“Nope. I had a professor who liked one of my short stories and happened to know someone in the publishing industry. She helped me get an agent. Then my agent found a publishing house she thought would be a good fit for my work, and luckily, they agreed. The rest is history.” I shrug. “I got lucky.”

“Luck had no bearing on it. You always had the talent. I’m just happy more people besides me were paying attention,” he says proudly.

We continue strolling down the street, crossing over to the west side before circling back. I should probably be taking in all the changes to my little town. Unfortunately, I’m far too distracted by the warmth of Milo’s hand wrapped around mine to pay attention to anything else.

“And what about your personal life?” he asks after a pause.

“What about it?”

“Is there some guy back in New York who’s going to be pissed that I’m holding his woman’s hand? A husband perhaps? Fiancé maybe?”

“There’s no guy.” I shake my head.

Milo’s smile widens. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“You know, that remark would feel a lot more genuine if you weren’t smiling so hard.”

“What? This smile?” He points to his toothy grin. “I was born with this smile. It’s the darnedest thing. It always shows up whenever I’m happy. Can’t help it. Sorry.”

“God, you’re still an idiot.” I laugh.

“And that sound is still my favorite sound in the world.”

“What sound?” I ask, still giggling.

“That one. Right there.” His smile softens. “When we were kids, every time you laughed at something I said, I felt like I was ten feet tall.”

My heart stumbles in my chest, bringing my laugh and my feet to an abrupt halt.

I swallow hard. “You never told me that.”

“There are a lot of things I never told you, sweetheart.”

If the endearment alone weren’t enough to send my pulse into overdrive, the intensity of the way he’s looking at me does the trick.

“Like what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Milo looks at me intently, as if the words were right there on the tip of his tongue, yet for some reason, he can’t bring himself to say them.

“I think it’s a little too early in the game for me to be sharing all my secrets with you, don’t you think, Max?”

I’m so lost in the intensity of his stare that it takes me longer than it should to manage a small nod. He gives my hand a gentle tug, and I fall into step beside him again.

“I am curious about one thing, though,” he says, his voice returning to its usual lightheartedness.

“What’s that?” I clear my throat, needing these ridiculous, unexpected feelings to settle down before they completely get the better of me.

“What pen name did you choose in the end?”

If my heart was already working double time, his question ensures that it stops working altogether.

That wasn’t something I’d expected him to ask. In fact, it was probably the last thing I wanted him to ask me tonight.