We’re all sitting around one of the tables, hot and a little tired. Randy is supposed to pick us up right after midnight, and the clock is winding down.

When a slow song starts, Wes pulls me to my feet. We sway to the music, his hands running up and down my back.

The lead singer stops singing and starts the countdown. With each number he yells, Wes rains kisses across my neck and cheeks.

When the singer gets to “one,” Wes’s lips fall on mine. It’s soft and sweet at first, but it deepens as people shout “Happy New Year!” all around us.

The band starts playing another slow song, and Wes pulls me in close. “So what’s your New Year’s resolution?” he asks.

I tighten my arms around him. “No more blind dates.”

Friday, January 1st

By the time I stumble to the kitchen, it’s past lunch.

“It’s about time you woke up.”

My head jerks up and then I’m running straight into my dad’s arms.

“When did you get here?” I ask.

He hugs me, then ruffles my hair. “Last night. After you had already left for your date.”

“There’s my girl,” Mom says as she walks into the kitchen.

She squeezes me and I squeeze her right back. God, I’ve missed them.

Dad nods toward the table. “Have a seat. Want some coffee?” he asks.

“I’d love some.”

“So tell me about that,” he says, pointing to the blind-date chart.

Mom sits down across from me and I tell them everything. Most of it they already know, thanks to that group message and Margot’s big mouth, but Mom says it’s not the same unless they hear it from me.

Of course, I gloss over the drive-in movie date.

“You’ve had a busy break,” Mom says. “How do you feel about it? Are you still sad things are over with Griffin?”

I shake my head. “Actually, no. That was for the best. He just recognized it before I did.”

Dad takes a sip of his coffee, then sets it down gently on the table. “And what’s going on with Wes? Nonna said you picked him last night.”

I blush. “Wes has been my friend for a long time. And now we’re going to see if there’s anything more.”

Both of his eyebrows shoot up. “Not too much more, I hope!”

“Dad,” I say. “Quit being weird.”

The back door opens and Wes walks in. His hair is sticking straight up, and he’s still in the same shirt he wore last night.

“ ’Morning,” he says, waving to us. “How’s Margot and Anna?”

Mom gives him a recap, but Wes never moves from beside the back door, near the wall where the date board is.

“You want some coffee?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, I just came by to do one thing.” Wes grabs a rag off of the kitchen counter and then erases Nonna’s cryptic message from yesterday. Then he picks up the dry-erase marker and writes:

He turns around. I can tell he feels a little awkward with my parents watching him. But he winks at me and says, “Catch up with you in an hour?”