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Okay, maybe that’s a little morbid, but damn if the title does sing to me.

My smile widens when I hit send.

There. It’s done.

I lean back in my chair, hands clasped behind my head, and wait for Lauren’s reply. But when it doesn’t come right away, I check the clock on my laptop and realize it’s well past midnight.

I was so in the zone, I didn’t even notice how late it was.

Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning for her feedback. Hopefully, I’ll have a couple of chapters to send her by then.

Gotta strike while the iron is hot, right?

It’s not like I have anything else to do but sleep. And when the words are coming this easily, a good night’s rest drops pretty damn low on my list of priorities.

Just as I’m about to lean forward and start another chapter, I glance at the clock again.

12:32 a.m.

Shit. I promised Milo I’d be at the Cushmans’ diner before closing.

Goddamn it! I also promised Betty and Bill I’d have dinner with them tonight, too.

If there’s one downside to being on a roll when you’re deep in the writing cave, it’s how easy it is to forget about everything else you’re supposed to be doing.

No. It’s more than that. You forget there’s an entire world outside the one you’ve created. Real life takes a back seat to the characters in your head, and nine times out of ten, they matter more to you than anything the real world could offer.

You don’t even realize it’s happening until something like this reminds you.

Some people understand when you try to explain it. Others start resenting you after one too many canceled plans, unanswered texts, and phone calls.

I just hope the Cushmans fall into the former.

I promise myself I’ll go to the diner tomorrow and apologize for completely blowing them off and forgetting all about our dinner plans.

As for Milo…

I wonder if there’s any chance he could still be there.

No. Of course not. I mean, waiting ten minutes, even fifteen, is acceptable. But a whole half hour? No way is Milo still there.

So why do I have the sudden urge to get in my car and see for myself?

I know why. Milo Fletcher has always been my weakness. Apparently, ten years and several thousand miles haven’t done a damn thing to change that.

And maybe that’s why some selfish, twisted part of me needs to know if I still have the same effect on him.

If he’ll wait.

The Milo I knew in high school would have waited all night if that’s what it took to see me.

But that was a decade ago.

We’re not those people anymore. There’s no way this Milo—whoever this Milo is—would do the same.

I guess there’s only one way to find out.

Before logic or good sense can talk me out of it, I grab my car keys, gloves, jacket, and scarf and head out.