When he leaves, Teddy smiles, his spirits lifted by the sight of the food. “Now we’re talking.”
The room around us seems to grow dimmer and the candles brighter as we pick at the caviar. There’s classical music playing softly in the background, and nearby the maître d’ pops open a bottle of champagne. Across the table Teddy is smiling at me, and there’s something so romantic about the whole scene that when he leans forward and says, “So I have a proposal for you,” my heart stops for a second.
“What?”
He laughs at my expression. “Not that kind of proposal.”
“Of course not,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “So what,then?”
“Well,” he says, “I wanted to see if you’d reconsider about the money.”
“Right,” I say, but there’s a heavy feeling in my chest because I understand now he didn’t bring me here as a thank-you at all. He brought me here because he still feels like he owes me. “I already told you—”
“I know,” he says. “And I heard you. But what about at least part of it? Even just, like, a million dollars? That would be enough to—”
“Teddy.”
“What?” he asks, his eyes wide. “I don’t get it. What’s so wrong with trying to make sure you’re taken care of? Why shouldn’t you get something out of this too?”
I lower my gaze, thinking again of Aunt Sofia and Uncle Jake, knowing they might also want to get something out of this. It’s selfish, not asking them. I realize that. But what if all this time they’ve been taking care of me, it turns out they’ve just been hoping the universe would figure out a way to pay them back? I’m not sure I could bear it.
I draw in a shaky breath and force myself to look up at Teddy. “It’s really nice of you,” I tell him. “And I know how much you mean it. But I meant what I said the other day too. I just don’t want it.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t understand. How could you not?”
Because, I want to tell him, this money is going to turn our lives into a snow globe, tipping the whole world upside down. It’s going to change everything. And to me there’s nothing scarier.
But I can’t say that to him. Not when he’s been floating a foot off the ground ever since we found that ticket. I don’t want to be the one who brings him back down to earth.
“I just don’t,” I say, more firmly this time, and there’s a finality in my voice that makes him sit back hard in his chair with a sigh.
“Fine,” he says, reaching for the last circle of brioche. “But fair warning: if you don’t change your mind soon, I might spend your half on caviar.”
“It’s not my half,” I say with a little smile. “And you can do better than caviar.”
He glances up at me, his eyebrows raised. “How do you figure?”
“Squab,” I say. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he says, grinning. “Maybe I’ll open up a whole squab restaurant. Or better yet: a chain. I’ll bring squab to the masses.”
“Just what they want, I’m sure.”
“We’ll call it McSquab’s. It’ll be a surefire hit. And then I’ll be this giant restaurant tycoon, and I’ll open up a big office in New York or L.A., and I’ll travel around on my private jet to places like Tokyo and Sydney and Beijing, and…” When he sees my expression, he trails off. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. I know he’s joking. Of course he is. But still, it feels like he’s already preparing to fly away from this place.
“Hey,” he says, reaching for my hand across the table. “It’s gonna be okay, you know.”
My answer is automatic: “I know.”
“Nothing’s going to change,” he promises. “Not really.”
And like an idiot I believe him.
The money arrives on a rainy day in the middle of March.
For the past seven weeks, Teddy has been doing a very convincing impression of a contestant on one of those game shows where they set you loose in a store with a bucket of cash and a ticking clock. With his growing assortment of credit cards, he’s already managed to run up a debt so big it would’ve given pre-jackpot Teddy a heart attack.
