In response, Jo leaned forward again, angling her body carefully over his effortfully arranged spread. This time her lips were soft, their press almost hesitant, and when he placed a hand under her chin to guide her closer, he realized her skin was damp.
“You’re crying,” Mal observed. He filed this as another thing he knew about Josephine Boateng, that despite her stony exterior, she was quick to tears.
“I know. I can’t help it,” Jo said, sniffling through a smile. She settled back onto her haunches, then popped a cherry into her mouth. “I cry at everything. Movies, TV shows. I was a hot mess during residency. Couldn’t make it through a family meeting without losing my cool. It’s annoying.”
Mal wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb, then draped an arm over her shoulders and gathered her into hisside. She molded into him easily, and he marveled at how sweetly she nestled into him, her heat becoming his, their scents intermixing.
“I’m sure they appreciated that,” Mal said. “Seeing their doctor cry for them.”
“Sometimes,” Jo said with a laugh that was almost a whine. “Sometimes it pissed them off. Like I was making their loss about me.”
Mal nodded, understanding. Then: “So why are you crying now?”
“Because you’re wonderful,” she said simply.
Mal chuckled nervously. “I’m not,” he began, but Jo shook her head.
“No, no, but youare,” she insisted. “Like, look at you. You just set me up a picnic. You listen for what I want even when I don’t tell you directly. You definitely should be working on your proposal right now, but you’re here with me instead.” She nestled farther into him, turning until her voice was muffled into his arm. “I think I might adore you, Malcolm Waters.”
“But...” Mal provided, already knowing that it was too early to revel in her words.
“But I’m scared,” Jo finished.
Mal opened his mouth, then closed it, swiveling to face the water. It was nearing sunset, just as he’d planned, the clouds streaked with pink and purple, the sunlight spilling over the lake like a popped yolk. Frustration burned a hole in his chest. He knew that Jo’s trust wasn’t something he would magically get, that there was no fixed number of romantic gestures and sweet words that would eventually help her realize that he was safe. When they first met, he had seen Jo as a blazing star, someonewho shone relentlessly regardless of circumstance or surroundings. Now he recognized that as fantasy. Jo was human, and a little broken, and the pessimistic worldview she’d built was informed by experiences that he would be remiss to diminish. There was no reason for her to believe that he had no ulterior motives, even if he knew that he’d put together this picnic just to make her smile. She would have to decide for herself.
“I can’t fix that for you, you know,” he said, after a moment. “I can’t chase away that fear. You just have to believe that I’m not going anywhere.”
Jo nodded, dabbing her face with a napkin. Then she steeled herself and reached for his hand.
“I know,” she said. “But that isn’t what I mean. I’m not scared of you anymore, Mal. I’m scaredforyou.”
A breeze blew by, uncommonly brisk for the time of year. Across the water, Mal could hear children screaming.
“I need to tell you something,” she said.
“Yes,” Mal said. He could feel his pulse jumping in his neck, his body preparing itself for a blow.
And with a slow, shaking breath, Jo gave it.
“I saw Ezra the other day.”
Mal let his next breath round out his belly, then pushed it out in a slow, controlled exhale.Be cool, he thought, even as howling filled his ears.
“Oh,” he managed, not sounding cool at all.
“Yeah,” Jo said.
“So, uh...” he started, clearing his throat. “How did that meeting come about? Did you reach out?”
“No, actually,” Jo said. “Coincidence. His ex got trashed at a restaurant I was in.”
Jo told Mal, then, how just minutes before she found him in her bedroom at the Adelmans’ the day they first met, she’d learned that Ezra was unknowingly dating her childhood bully, Ashley, then knowingly took Ashley’s side when she made a scene at his party. How Jo had found that same bully making a mess of herself at a bar the morning after her and Mal’s night together, and how, in a show of apparent benevolence, Jo had called Ezra to pick Ashley up.
“It wasn’t because I wanted to see him again,” Jo insisted. “I just didn’t know what else to do.”
Serendipity was just fate for the unromantic, Mal thought. He imagined Ezra walking into the restaurant, a red string of fate tightening and resonating between him and Jo.
“Okay,” he said steadily. “And what did you feel, when you saw him again?”
