“I was in the yard. The door has glass.”
“You saw nothing.”
“I saw enough to know you’re not neutral.”
I went back to work.
Two hours later, my phone vibrated.
NOAH: Did you kiss me upstairs?
I stared at the message.
ME: Yes.
A minute passed.
NOAH: Thought so.
Another pause.
NOAH: Was checking whether that was a dream.
ME: Not a dream.
NOAH: Good.
I smiled at the phone.
NOAH: Date tonight?
ME: You may be exhausted.
NOAH: Quiet date.
ME: Define quiet.
NOAH: Dinner. Couch. Kissing. No lighthouse man.
I laughed aloud.
Caleb looked over from the ferry cable.
“Good news?”
“None of your business.”
My phone vibrated again.
NOAH: Also I think I like you more today.
The words brought everything around me to a halt.
Not love.
Not a recovered declaration.
Something better because it belonged entirely to the present.
