“Do you want to get married?” I ask him with a smirk.
“To the right girl, I would. Same question back to you.”
“I would like to get married,” I say and leave it at that.
Fortunately, our dinner arrives, and the question game comes to a natural end.
We eat, and both Miles and I have another round of margaritas. When dinner is done and our plates are cleared, Miles and I only linger for a few minutes before leaving the restaurant; neither of us has any interest in dessert.
And I have a surprise for Miles.
We get to the end of the restaurant walkway, where I stop and turn to Miles, clasping my hands behind my back.
“Feel free to say no to this, but if I remember this very niche fact about you…I don’t think you will… In about…twenty minutes, there’s some entertainment at the theater here.”
Miles raises his eyebrows at me. He clearly didn’t read the resort program guide today.
“It’s a magician,” I say, trying to hold back a smile.
Miles doesn’t even try to fight it. His face cracks wide open with a grin, his eyes lighting up. “Oh, hell yeah. Let’s go see a magician,” he says, still smiling, his words brimming to the edge with joy.
He offers me his elbow, and I deem the contact safe enough, looping my hand through the crook of his arm.
“You know I’ve always had a thing for magicians,” I say as we walk to the theater.
“If you’re referring to the magic phase I went through in high school, I told you that in confidence. Not to be used against me.”
“I’m not using it against you! I think it’s cute.”
“I found David Blaine late in life, okay?” he says, defensive.
I throw my head back in a cackle.
“I still love magic,” he says with a nonchalant shrug.
“So you’re still performing card tricks at family reunions?” I tease.
“That was one time.”
“One time too many. You should have seen your aunt Sheila’s face.”
“I remember it,” he says around a laugh. And for a moment, we’re both transported back to his family reunion the summer between our junior and senior year of college. Miles’s family did a family reunion every other summer, and that summer it was being held in Wildwood, New Jersey. It was almost a four-hour drive for me, but it meant I got to see Miles, so it was an easy yes.
That his cousins goaded him into doing a few card tricks for the whole family was a distinct highlight of the trip for me.
“And you still love magic?” I ask.
“I do. Sometimes I watch magic tricks on YouTube when I’m bored. I bet I still know a trick or two.”
“That’s very whimsical of you,” I say.
“Have you no whimsy? Do you not believe in magic?”
“Magic is just…illusions and sleight of hand. It’s distractions and clever hand movements. It’s fun to watch, but magic isn’t real.”
“Well, I found you again. And that’s a little bit magical, isn’t it?”
I open my mouth to respond, but his comment strikes me right in the chest, his words aimed and landed true. I let out a huff that’s more of a laugh, but the way he looks at me, like it really was a bit of magic that brought us back into each other’s lives, hits me square in the chest.
