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“You’re not,” I pointed out.
“Yeah. You either.”
“Mm.”
Cass shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for making such a big deal about the restaurant.”
“It wasn’t about the restaurant.”
“No, it wasn’t. But I do have this…this fantasy in my head. And I can’t get mad every time reality doesn’t match up.”
“Your fantasy of eating at Mon Ami?” I was confused.
“No.”
“Your fantasy that I’ll become an honest, reliable person and we’ll spend our lives together?” I tried.
His upper lip got kinda stuck on his teeth from the cold and made his smile adorably crooked. “Not exactly. Sort of.” His voice softened and deepened in a way that sent pleasant shivers through me. “You’re you, Fran. You’re always just you.”
It didn’t sound like an accusation—though it probably should have been. “I lied to you,” I said. “Again.”
“Yeah. And we can’t magically make that go away.” He slid his hand out of his coat and reached for my wrist, drawing my hand out of my pocket too. I was missing one glove, and I hadn’t wanted him to see that, but of course he’d picked my bare hand. He held it in his own puffy-gloved hand, keeping it warm. “But I’ve known you for pretty much forever. And I know you get scared sometimes, because your father abandoned you and left you feeling like nothing you did would ever be good enough to earn the affection or approval of others.”
“Wow. Okay.”
“And I just want you to know that you don’t need to lie to me. I’ll be here. I was always here. I would have been here. For even more of forever.”
“Cass…” I could hardly breathe. Part of that was the cold squeezing my lungs. But part of it was his words, wrapping me as securely as his arms ever had.
“And you don’t have to impress your father anymore. Because he’s living in Fort Lauderdale with an Instagram model, and he’s not coming back.”
“Okay, can we stop talking about—”
“Yeah, sure. Sorry, that was... I just want you to know that you don’t have to live your life for anyone else.”
“No, I know that. I didn’t always, but I do now.”
“Okay.” He paused. “Sorry.”
“Me too.” Silence, and then I said, “Friends?”
His smile this time looked sad, and I hated that. “Friends,” he agreed. He squeezed my hand. “Where are your gloves?”
“I have one.” I pulled my other hand out of my pocket to show him.
“Of course you do.” He didn’t let go of my bare hand.
“Are you going in for act two?” I asked, suddenly warm all over despite the cold.
“I don’t know. I might go home and…think.”
“About anything in particular?”
“Just thoughts.”
I snorted. “Well, I have to get back to my girls. But you go home and think about thoughts. I’ll see you at the tree-lighting tomorrow.”
“Are they still going to let you light the tree, after you sent the whole Rockin’ the Night Away thingie into red alert?”
