Chloe's POV 

I got to the bookstore café ten minutes early again. 

The place was warm and smelled like coffee and paper, half-full with students and a few older readers scattered at the small tables. I claimed one near the window and tried not to check my phone every thirty seconds.

Dale walked in right on time with the same easy posture, dark hair a little windblown from the drive. He spotted me and smiled,smaller than before, a little careful, like he was still feeling out the new ground after the car.

“Hey,” he said, dropping into the chair across from me. “You got here first?”

“GPS did most of...