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“You’re kidding,” I say.
He smiles, his lovely, sexy smile and a lock of dark hair falls over his forehead. He pushes it back with two fingers. “You got me.”
I laugh.
Then Carla hands me a small package. “Oh, honey, what’s this?”
“It’s not just from me, it’s from all of us.”
Luis is watching me with a twinkle in his eye. “Open it!” Matti says.
I rip the paper off quickly and open a small purple box. Inside is a pair of heart-shaped earrings in delicate silver filigree with small diamonds. Luis and I were waiting outside a jewelry store recently—I don’t remember why anymore—and I pointed them out, because they were heart-shaped. This is what the new, improved me does now. Reacts to heart-shaped jewelry when my husband is within earshot, because everybody knows heart-shaped jewelry is cute and sweet and equals love and I want to remind him that we’re in love and we’re cute and sweet. But this is even better. Buying your wife heart-shaped jewelry is a message, it’s loud and clear and I’m so touched he remembered that my eyes swim.
He kisses me on the lips. “Congratulations, babe. I knew you were incredible, and I didn’t think you could surprise me anymore, but I was wrong. You are something else.”
You’re incredible.I remember those words too, imprinted as they are on my retina, and sent to someone else. If I was smiling before, now I’m positively grinning.
“Can we eat now?” Matti asks, and we all laugh. Everyone gets their favorite and we agree we will eat here as a family at least once a month from now on, which sends Mateo’s eyes rolling back in his head.
Carla is telling us about some coding camp she wants to go to when Matti stops eating, fork up in the air, eyes firmly on the window.
“What is it, sweetie?” I ask.
“There’s someone watching us.”
I turn around to follow his gaze, but all I see is a guy looking at the restaurant, the way you might when you’re wondering if it’s a nice place to eat at.
“Who’re you talking about?” Luis says.
“Outside,” Matti says.
Then I get it. That young man is not gazing at the restaurant, or the menu that is displayed outside: he’s staring at me. But I have no idea who he is, except all of a sudden, I do. I know those eyes.
My stomach rolls. It’s Ryan. Ryan without a beard. Clean-shaven Ryan. Definitely Ryan, but he looks so young. His cheeks are flushed from the cold and the corners of his mouth are turned down, like he’s upset about something.
“One of your fans?” Luis says, turning back to his food without looking at me.
Hardly, I think. But I laugh. “Probably.”
“He doesn’t look like a fan,” Matti says. “He looks angry.”
I don’t think he looks angry, I think he looks confused. Luis squeezes my knee under the table and looks at me questioningly. I give him a quick shake of the head and go back to eating my food, wishing Ryan would go away, except he just stands there, still as a statue. I push pieces of duck around my plate and try to make light conversation. But my heart is beating too fast, too hard, and it’s making the silk fabric of my dress visibly shudder with every beat. What if Ryan walks in and…what? Confronts me in front of my family? Tells everyone I rolled around on the carpet with him?
“I’ll go and find out,” Luis says, throwing down his napkin.
I quickly put one hand on his arm. “That’s okay,” I say, trying to sound cheery, and failing. “It’s someone from work.” I stand up so fast the table scrapes and shudders against my thighs, almost tipping our glasses over. I walk quickly outside into the cold air, unsure what I’m going to do or say, my stomach twisting a little more with every step. But Ryan isn’t there anymore. I look around, but he’s gone.
“You work with some weird people,” Matti says under his breath as I return to my seat.
I laugh, embarrassed. “Someone from work?” Luis asks, one eyebrow at a sharp angle.
“Yes, that’s what I said. I hadn’t recognized him at first. He works in the law department. He must have seen me and hesitated about coming in. I don’t know. He was gone when I got outside.”
I pretend to laugh again, but I feel my mouth tremble with the effort of it. All I can think of is the wordWHOREscratched on my car.
The following Monday I go straight to June’s desk with a small potted green plant.
“For you,” I say.
