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“I care about her. A lot.”

“I know.” It was touching, though Nick would never say that to Gibby’s face because she’d never let him hear the end of it. “And she knows it too. But you have to admit, she’s got a point. Things change. And you’re young.”

She scowled. “I hate it when that’s the excuse. That me being in a relationship at seventeen isn’t the same as having a relationship when I’m older. Plenty of people marry the person they dated in high school.”

Nick nearly tripped. “You want tomarry—”

“Oh my god,no.That’s not what I meant. I’m saying that being young doesn’t mean we’re stupid.”

“What happens when you turn eighteen and she’s still underage? What if her parents try and give you crap for that?”

Gibby rolled her eyes. “It’s fine. Her parents like me. And myparents think she’s—and I quote—‘the bee’s knees.’ Whatever the hell that means.”

Nick frowned. “I don’t understand hippies.”

“No one does.”

“Especially when they’re also accountants.”

“It’s confounding in ways I don’t even want to think about. We were the only Black people at every commune we visited. We were weirdly treated like royalty.”

“Can I give you some advice? Not about the royalty thing. I’m too white to ever give you advice about that. About Jazz.”

Gibby stared at him while they waited at an intersection for the light to change. “You?Youwant to givemeadvice?”

“I feel like I should be offended, but I don’t quite know why.”

“Oh, you should be. This’ll be good. Lay it on me, Bell. Give me advice.”

Nick thought for a moment. Then, “Respect her fears. You may think they’re unfounded, but they’re still what she’s feeling, and that’s valid. Reassure her if that’s what you want. And if you don’t, make sure she knows you still care about her, but it’s better to end it now than further down the road when it would hurt more.”

“That… wasn’t bad,” Gibby said, sounding begrudgingly impressed. “Where did you come up with that?”

“I’m very self-aware,” Nick said smugly. “I see everyth—Ow,who put this freakingfire hydranthere?” He glared down at it as he rubbed his knee.

“That’s better,” Gibby said, pulling him back under the umbrella. “The world is right again, and all is well.”

“Whatever. I gave you good advice, and you know it.”

“True,” Gibby said. “But I’ve always felt like the best advice is the one you can also follow yourself.”

“What?”

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “What about Seth?”

Nick blinked at her. “WhataboutSeth?”

“Really. That’s what you’re going with?”

Were they speaking the same language or…? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gibby sighed. “Oh, lord. Okay. Let’s try this a different way. Nicky.”

“Gibby.”

“What happens when you graduate and you and Seth go to different schools?”

“Not going to happen,” Nick said immediately. “Seth and I already have plans to go to the same school where we’ll share a dorm the first year, and then move off campus the following years. When we graduate, we’ll get an apartment in the city where I’ll spend four years on the force before leaving to open my detective agency-slash-bakery. Seth will become a famous author who writes true crime stories that won’t actually be true because they’ll have dragons in them, or he’ll be a lawyer that wins every case since he’ll be the voice for those who can’t speak for themselves.”