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Dean leaned one hip against the counter, considering. “We’d lose the new-arrivals space.”

“We could move new arrivals over there,” I said, pointing toward the wall beside rock. “If we shift the listening station maybe six inches, we’d have enough space.”

Dean followed my gaze. “We’d need another shelf.”

“We could use the one from the back.”

“And if Twin/Tone starts sending regional titles, we’d need a separate section anyway.”

“We could give the regional titles their own section instead of burying them in rock.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

We both looked at each other at the same time.

We.

It slipped out so naturally.

Dean turned to me. “Brian can watch the store, want to grab some lunch?”

“Absolutely, I’m starved.”

We went to a place two blocks away that allowed dogs and served hamburgers in red plastic baskets lined with paper and had a Pac-Man machine near the restrooms. I ordered fries, a Coke, and a milkshake, while Dean ordered a burger and fries, then ate most of my fries.

“You have your own fries,” I said.

“Yours are better.”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“Who?”

I looked around and lowered my voice. “The fry people.”

I stared at him until he grinned. It was so easy spending time together, just two people eating cheap food while a boy slapped the side of the Pac-Man machine as if it might improve his game.

For years, I’d thought what I lost with Dean was some grand romance or sweeping alternate life with better music, more passion, and fewer dinner parties where men explained municipal bonds.

But sitting across from him while he wiped ketchup from his thumb with a paper napkin, what I’d missed seemed quieter. Normal days together, common interests, and laughter.

After lunch, we walked Otis toward the lake where it was cooler. We walked across the grass watching the sailboats, their white sails flashing whenever they turned. We found a place beneath a tree where Otis flopped down, drawing the attention of two passing girls who stopped to ask if they could pet him.

After they moved on, Dean and I sat in the grass and people watched while Otis snored.

Eventually he said, “Peter wants my answer tomorrow.”

I turned toward him. “Have you decided?”

“I think I decided when you told me last week I’d spend years wondering if I didn’t.”

“That was wise of me.”

He tossed a stick for Otis, who watched it land without moving.

“I’ll probably be gone a couple of days. Maybe longer if the meeting goes well.”

“Then we’ll have to make sure Brian doesn’t destroy the store while you’re gone.”