Nothing, I guess.

The air is misty, the streets and sidewalks empty apart from the occasional spandex-clad jogger or bicyclist.

Out on the water, a couple of boats drift, but still, it feels like just the two of us in a world that’s fast asleep.

We wander along the lake’s edge, and the silence doesn’t feel awkward. It’s its own kind of conversation, a reintroduction after our time apart.

“Thank you for being there last night,” I finally say.

“I was always going to be,” he says. “Just so you know. No matter what, I would’ve been there.”

I blink back the rising tears. “I know.”

“Elda, Katya, and Banks, on the other hand,” he says, “getting them to help took bartering.”

“Well, Elda at least will probably let you off the hook,” I say. “She and my boss were really hitting it off.”

“They were cute,” Miles agrees.

Another few minutes pass. We turn up a side street. My heart is vibrating. I take a deep breath, slowly release it. “I know you went to see my dad.”

Miles’s gaze slices toward me. He stops. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you before I did that. It was stupid.”

“I understand why you didn’t,” I say. “Really.”

The grooves at the inside corners of his brows soften. “The other night . . . I think you misunderstood me. I didn’t wake up and panic. I woke up . . . happy. Happier than I can remember being.”

He rubs the back of his head. “And then Petra called, and she was sobbing. So hard I couldn’t understand her. I’d never seen her cry before. I honestly thought someone had died. She asked if I could come see her, and I said yes. Because I was worried. I still care about her.”

“I know you do,” I say thickly.

“I got to Peter’s place and she was sitting out front . . .” He lets out an exasperated breath. His eyes cut up to me, watching for a reaction. “She told me they broke up.”

I don’t say anything.

“You don’t seem surprised,” he says.

“I’m not,” I say. “Peter told me.”

Something flashes across his face, too quick for me to read. “Right,” he says softly. He rubs the back of his head, nodding a few more times. He clears his throat, but it stays hoarse: “So you’ve talked.”

“He came by,” I say.

His gaze sweeps to our feet, and he nods again.

“Miles?”

His dark eyes lift to mine, faintly glossed.

“Shit, what’s wrong?” I can’t help it; I reach for him, slide my hands up to his shoulders.

“Nothing.” He forces a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” I say.

He flushes. “I mean, if you guys are . . .”

“If we’re what?”

His teeth scrape over his bottom lip.

“Oh my god!” Understanding clatters through me. “Miles, no. You don’t think that Peter and I are . . . Absolutely not.” I actually laugh. And then a horrible thought causes me a full-body twitch. “Wait—you and Petra aren’t—”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “When I got over there, she was trying to tell me how the whole thing was a mistake. So I told her about you.”

“That we slept together?” I say, bewildered.

He gives a surprised laugh. “No, Daphne. That I love you.”

Hearing it again feels like swallowing a lit lightbulb. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to tell her first.” The tops of his cheeks redden. “That I’m in love with you.”

My eyes sting. My limbs go shivery and a heaviness presses in on my chest.

He loves me. Present tense.

And I love him. He knows me, and I see him.

“And when I told Petra . . .” He swallows. “I guess—she kind of got into my head. I mean, I was already in my head, but she said things that fucked with me.”

“What do you mean?” I say.

His expression verges on pained.

“You can tell me,” I promise.

“It’s just,” he says, “Peter told her about your dad. And Petra started saying this stuff, about how you’d been through too much. That you weren’t the kind of person who could deal with uncertainty. She and I are, but not you and Peter.”

“And what, she’s the expert on what I can and can’t deal with?” I ask.

He smiles faintly. His hands circle my wrists, his thumbs running up and down my veins as his face softens. “They broke up because Petra decided she didn’t want kids, and Peter did.”

“Oh,” I say.

His gaze drops, his touch stilling. “And she reminded me that’s something that matters to you too. And I already knew that. It wasn’t a surprise. But . . .” He chews on his bottom lip, his gaze so warm and fluid I feel like I could swan-dive into it, like it would rush up to meet me on every side.