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“I remember that from when I lived in a dorm. Some of the rooms looked like they’d used an interior designer.” He shook his head. “I had sheets.”

“But you probably didn’t care very much, and my roommate did,” I said. “She just wanted a nice place to live but I went out of my way to avoid participating and helping. I refused to buy the polka dot comforter, the sconces, and the fairy lights.”

“Magical lights?”

I had to explain what they were and he seemed interested. “I was ready for her not to like me,” I stated. “I assumed she wouldn’t and I just kept thinking about the bird in the book and how I would do everything myself. There was no reason that I couldn’t have had a matching comforter. I needed one, anyway, and it wasn’t like any of the stuff she picked out was expensive. She and her mom had sewn curtains for our room because they didn’t have much money to waste. I shouldn’t have acted like that and now I’m sorry. Maybe I can find her on social media and tell her so.”

“I think that would be nice,” Oliver said, “but I feel like we got off track.” He pulled into his driveway. “Let’s go inside. Do you want something to eat? I do.”

Despite just having come from lunch, I realized that I also did. I hadn’t actually taken any bites from my plate because it had all been so nerve-racking. “I thought you said that you left your coat at a restaurant,” I mentioned.

“I’m still hungry,” he told me.

Walking into his house felt familiar and easy, which was worse yet. This was not where I lived, I reminded myself. “I guess that I took the whole day off,” I mentioned. “I’m going to get serious again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.” He started removing containers from the fridge and everything looked great.

“I can still work.” Since I knew where everything was in this kitchen, I got out plates and forks and set them up on the island. “Were you really planning to take the afternoon off yourself?”

“I set my own hours,” he reminded me. “I’ll be gone almost all of next week.” I watched his head turn toward the sink. “Do you think it will follow me there?”

I knew what he meant. “It followed me back to the Milaflores Building, but that’s not so unusual.”

“I know what you’re trying to say, but the situation is very, very unusual.”

“And I’m so sorry about it,” I told him. “I have the feeling that it’s my fault, because I came here to your house and maybe I brought it with me.”

“No, I think that it came back because I played that song.”

“Then you kissed me. The New Year’s kiss,” I reminded him, in case he had forgotten it. I hadn’t—that had been on my mind pretty constantly, and now that I was close to him again, the memories were even stronger.

“Right, the New Year’s kiss.” He passed some leftovers. “Let’s not worry about it right now. How did you leave things with your family?”

“I walked out and they watched me. It was after I said that I wasn’t going to help my mom ever again and I wasn’t going to forgive her, either.” I looked at the food on my plate and suddenly didn’t want it. “What would I have done if she hadn’t come back to La Grieta? She would have left to be with Daisuke the meth dealer, which she said was her plan, and I would have become a ward of the state until someone figured out who I was and that I had grandparents.”

“From what you’ve said about your mother, it doesn’t seem like she thinks through her plans. She probably didn’t consider anything but what she felt in that moment, but then she turned around. She realized how much she loved you and that she couldn’t go through with it.”

“Maybe. Or maybe the road was too bad to drive on.” I sighed. “I prefer to think that she loved me.”

“I’m sure of it,” he said.

“I guess the other reason that I’m doubtful is because she didn’t remember that today is my birthday. It didn’t bother me at first, because she really never got into celebrating particular days like this, but then everything just seemed compounded. That’s all.”

“Today is your birthday? I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you? I only know yours because I asked Gramps,” I said. “April eighth.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know yours.”

“My own mother doesn’t know,” I pointed out. “Neither did my grandparents. It doesn’t matter.”

But it did to Oliver, because he continued to frown and I saw him texting a few times as he put our plates into his dishwasher. I noticed that he didn’t rinse anything off them—maybe his appliances were extra powerful, but I had the idea that he just didn’t want to turn on the water in the sink, because he didn’t want to know what would happen when he did.

Not too long after we had finished, Gramps arrived. With cupcakes.

“Happy birthday!” he told me. “I hope you like chocolate.” He held out the box. “I got a dozen, so I also hope that you’re hungry.”

“Thank you,” I answered, then looked at Oliver. “You didn’t have to tell him.”