Page 45 of Given Our History

“Three.”

Teddy’s dark brows are sky high above the frame of his glasses. “You’re sure?”

“Two.”

I just shrug. I don’t have time to say anything.

“One.”

He writes a hasty four on the board.

“Time’s up. Let’s see those answers.”

I swivel on my stool to see what the other teams have written down. One of the kids at the table behind us holds their whiteboard aloft, and written on it is a magnificent, sloppy four. It’s sheer luck that we got it right, but I know that we got it right, because now the host is announcing “The correct answer is four” and one of the bartenders is using his free hand to tally on the chalkboard. And we’ve won. We beat a bunch of drunk college kids at a quiz night. We high-five across the table, laughing a little at our own ridiculousness, because we better have beaten them, if we think we’re qualified to teach.

We order some waters and talk a little about work while waiting for the buzz from the drinks to wear off, and then we call it a night at seven thirty, because apparently we’re getting old.

“I guess maybe you were right,” I concede as Teddy walks me to my car. Wind rustles the trees and dead leaves clatter in the gutters, and I hug myself, wishing I’d brought a coat. “I did sort of need this.”

He peers at me curiously. “Is that a ‘thank you’ I’m hearing?”

I give him a tight-lipped smile. “Maybe something like that.” We stop when we reach my dinged-up Volvo. “Well, this is me,” I say, and then I immediately feel dumb, because of course he remembers my car. I’ve only had it forever. “Oh! Let me get you for the drinks.”

I unlock the driver side door and bend across the seat to dig in the change-filled cupholder, looking for the ten-dollar bill I stuffed in there a couple weeks ago after picking up the McDonald’s for Reagan. “No, really, it’s fine—” Teddy tries to protest, but he cuts himself short as he leans over my shoulder, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from him, a little too inviting in the evening air. “You still keep change in that thing?”

“And bills, sometimes. Aha!”

I straighten up with the crumpled ten in hand, victorious—and bump into Teddy in the process. He steadies me with a hand on my upper arm, lingering a couple seconds longer than necessary before letting it drop to his side. “I can see why you worry about getting robbed. You’re aware that leaving money lying in plain sight is probably a bad idea?”

I pat the side of the Volvo. “So is this thing being allowed on the road, but the Maryland Motor Vehicle Administration hasn’t put a stop to me, yet.” I smooth the crumpled bill against the window, leaving behind scattered, smudged fingerprints before holding the money out to Teddy.

He stares at it, shaking his head. “I’m not going to accept this.”

“Donate it to the scholarship fund,” I tease, pressing it to his chest. The muscle is firm and warm beneath the fabric of his shirt, and against my better judgment, I don’t pull my hand away.

“That endowment would earn…” He casts a glance skyward, like he’s doing the math in his head. “A penny a year, by my calculations.” His gaze drops back to me, irises swallowed up by black in the dim glow of the yellow streetlamps. He takes a step toward me, so that it’s just my hand separating us. My heart thumps in my fingers—or maybe that’s his heart. It’s impossible to say.

“I think your math might be a little off,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “It would definitely earn less than a penny.”

He chuckles under his breath, reaching up to touch something—to touch me. “Numbers were never really my strong suit.” My breath catches in my throat as his fingers find the Tudor coin pendant I’ve always worn, his thumb brushing over the burnished nickel. I wonder whether he reads into me wearing it, thinks it’s anything other than force of habit, something for me to fidget with when I’m lost in thought. His eyes flick back up to my lips.

I swallow. My mind has gone blissfully blank. But he doesn’t bend to kiss me. Seeming to emerge from some sort of trance, he shakes his head faintly and takes a step back. I try not to feel too disappointed.

“I should get going,” I say. “I told Reagan I’d pick up dinner.”

He only nods, his face an expressionless mask.

I bid him good night, climb into my car, and fix my eyes on the road. I’m on a sort of autopilot for the drive home, headlights and ruby-red brake lights passing across my windshield in the night. I’d like to believe that this, too, will pass. But it occurs to me that I am very much in danger of the thing I’ve been most afraid of: loving a man who knows better than to open his heart to me again.

CHAPTER17

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO

That summer was hot and boring. Earlier that same year, we’d had back-to-back blizzards that blanketed Maryland in more snow than I’d ever seen in my life, but the summer that followed was largely forgettable. I never thought of myself as struggling to find things to do—I’d spent a good chunk of my life at home, after all, and had gotten pretty good at entertaining myself—but for those three months, I felt a little lost. Come September, I’d have to start thinking about college, mapping out my future, but in the meantime, I existed to make my parents’ lives easier. There was an uneasy sort of truce in the house—my parents had stopped arguing every night, but now it felt like they hardly spoke to each other. I drove Dad to his physical therapy appointments and watched Reagan while Mom was at work. I couldn’t find the motivation to pick up a book and I barely saw my friends.

I kept in touch with Teddy over Facebook; his replies were sporadic, dependent on whether he had internet access in whatever hostel he was staying in. So naturally, when I booted up the computer on a random Wednesday morning in July and realized he was online, I decided to post a status update to mess with him.

Well-behaved women seldom make history—Eleanor Roosevelt