The ice cream shop felt warm and cozy, all soft lighting and chatter. It smelled of sugar and waffle cones. I hadn't realized how much I missed the normal hum of people living their lives…..couples laughing, a kid crying because his scoop fell, the sound of someone singing faintly behind the counter.
I ordered mint chocolate for myself, then looked back at Milo, who was standing like a soldier beside me.
"What about you?" I asked.
"I don't eat ice cream," he said flatly.
"Everyone eats ice cream, Milo. I countered, rolling my eyes. I ordered him a simple vanilla cone before he could protest and shoved it into his hand. "There. Now you do."
He gave me a look that said you're insufferable, but he took a bite anyway. We sat across from each other in a small booth by the window. I tried to seem relaxed, but my mind was racing.
Every tick of the clock brought me closer to eight.
