Nicholas’s car rumbles up the drive shortly after six, which means he hasn’t made any stops after work, and I run to greet him right as he’s shutting his door. He turns and looks down at me, a grin instantly appearing on his face. His eyes are bright and flickering like firelight, and a swarm of butterflies threatens to fly up from my stomach and right out of my mouth. He’s holding my myrtle bouquet. “Hey, you,” he says, nudging my arm with his elbow. “Hi.” I take his lunchbox from him. (Look, I can be gallant!)
