“Rick’s is—“ I paused. “It’s a dive. In a good way. Very Juniper Falls.”
“We should all go,” Delia said. “After this.”
I looked at her.
She looked back at me with an expression that could only be described as weaponized innocence.
“I have to teach tomorrow,” I said. “Kindergarten. Early.”
“That’s too bad,” Connor said, and he looked like he actually meant it, which was flattering in a completely low-stakes way. “We’re here through Sunday though.”
“Friday,” Delia said immediately, looking at Jake. “We were thinking of coming back here Friday if you wanted to meet up.”
Jake glanced at Connor. Connor glanced at me.
“Friday works,” he said.
I opened my mouth to say something sensible. Connor had a perfectly nice face. He wanted nothing complicated from me. He was leaving Sunday.
I said no for good reasons,I thought.Real reasons. That I still believe in.
“Friday works,” I said.
He smiled and pulled out his phone. I gave him my number as if I wanted anything to do with anyone but Garrison Nash, who was absolutely off-limits.
“One more round first though?” Jake asked, already flagging down the waiter.
“Obviously,” Delia said.
We stayed another forty minutes. Connor was easy to talk to — he asked questions and actually listened to the answers, which put him ahead of approximately half the men I’d encountered in my life. He taught high school history in Boston. He thought kindergarten sounded terrifying. I told him about Owen Tate’s frog, which I was pretty sure now lived in the Juniper Hills Elementary bathroom, and he laughed.
It was nice.
Niceagain.
At ten I put on my coat and meant it. School was real and Tuesday was tomorrow and I had already consumed enough pinot to make circle time feel ambitious.
“We’re going to Rick’s,” Delia said, standing, wrapping herself back into her wool thing effortlessly. “You sure you won’t come? Just one.”
I looked at her.
She looked back at me.
“I’m sure,” I said.
Then she hugged me—quick, warm, smelling like expensive perfume—and murmured in my ear: “Friday. Connor. Very normal. Very uncomplicated.”
“Goodnight, Delia,” I said.
She sailed out with Jake and Connor in her wake, all three of them disappearing into the October night in the direction ofRick’s Bar, while I stood on the sidewalk outside Summit & Vine for a moment. The air was cold and smelled like woodsmoke. The maples were dark shapes against the sky. Two blocks away, Rick’s light was on.
It was always on.
I turned and walked home.
ELEVEN
nash
