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letting me figure this out.”
    Whatever “this” is. “Sure.”
    A quick goodbye, he’s gone, and I’m even lonelier. Doesn’t matter. My mom should be here in an hour, so I can head to the diner. I toss my phone onto the couch then go into the kitchen for a granola bar.
    Working the night shift sucks, but for the first time, I’m struck by three thoughts. The first is about how Grayson—after he and Cally are more than adequately comfortable together—could be here when I have to head to work, so my family isn’t constantly helping me. Second—my cheeks heat, and my stomach somersaults—what if Cally and I were more like Cally, Grayson , and I? Like, a mommy and a daddy with their baby?
    But my third thought quickly cools the others because Gray has no idea that I’ve been working like this. He’s going to feel awful, and I may never tell him about Emerald’s. Stripping allowed me to move out from my parents’ house, go to school, and save. I would work more nights there, but Bruno has a theory: I’ll make more money as a once-a-week special than an everyday treat. Compared to the other girls’ take, he’s right, and I refuse to regret the decision to dance, even if I don’t enjoy it.
    There’s a quick knock and slide of a key, then the front door knob twists, and Mom walks in.
    “Hey, Mom.”
    “Hi, sweetie.”
    We share a long moment, but there’s little time for a major mother-daughter powwow. Instead, I offer what’s in my hand. “Want a granola bar?”
    “No.” She shakes her head. “I’m exhausted. No idea how you do this.”
    She’s wearing the yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt that she’ll sleep in. Everyone helping out is a huge burden. I grew up with a picture-perfect family, and she and Dad don’t have a ton of money they can throw my way. We came to an understanding when Cally was born. I work my booty off, sometimes literally—though Mom’s not privy to the details—I’ll also get my degree, and they will help. If I want to raise Cally in any way comparable to how I grew up, having their assistance is the only option.
    “I love you, Mom.”
    She wraps me in a hug. “I know, honey.”
    There’s a lump in my throat because I’m hopeful everything will change and terrified at the same time. “You know he’s home.”
    Her arms squeeze. “Yes.”
    “I really want it to be okay.”
    Mom gives a deep sigh and a harder squeeze. “And I want you and Cally to be happy and loved.” She lets me go and holds me out in front of her. I hope she’s assessing and not judging.
    I bite my lip. “Are you mad at me?”
    “Mad?” Her eyebrows bite together. “No. Nervous? Yes.”
    “Me too.”
    We share a quiet look. “Alright, get to work.”
    “You’re early.” I toss the remains of the granola bar and smooth my uniform shirt.
    “So, take your time. Hit Mickey D's for an ice cream. Read a book. You can have a life on your own. You know that, right?”
    I shrug.
    “This is life, Emma. Enjoy it.” Her face is soft. Nothing fazes her. If there’s one person on earth who would understand love, it’s my mom. She loves love.
    “Thanks.” I peck her cheek and head for my purse.
    “Oh, and I told Cherry that she and Ryan were far past the line. I expect you’ll hear an apology before your birthday party tomorrow.” She clears her throat. “Bring anyone you like.”
    A lump surges in my throat. “Really?”
    “Might as well start somewhere. Doesn’t hurt that there will be cake and ice cream to help mend fences.”

CHAPTER SIX
     
    Emma
     
    It's pointless trying to decide which I crave more: a good book or ice cream. Reading always wins, and I can sit at the counter before my shift and chat with Jan. But the conversation with Grayson from earlier preoccupies me. I slow to the longest red light in Summerland and pull my phone out of my purse. I could call him again and check on him. Make sure what’s weighing heavy on his mind isn’t killing him.
    Or… I could surprise