She hands me a pair of black slouchy boots, miraculously in my size. There’s embossed detailing and a sturdy gold zipper. I hope they’re uncomfortable as shit because they’re so gorgeous I want to cry, and I’m too stressed about money right now to let myself buy them.
Astrid slips her ballet flats back on. “I can’t tell you how many times Simon had to talk me out of quitting in a rage.”
“I know the feeling. There’s a shower argument I’ve been winning for three years running.” My boss at the time refused me a raise on the basis that I “didn’t present professionally enough.” So I did what any overdramatic, petty person does. I turned it up to eleven.
In hindsight, the redundancy may have been justified.
“Arguments are best had in the car,” Astrid says. “Never waste the acoustics of a bathroom when there are songs to be sung.”
“I don’t think my neighbors need to be subjected to me ruining ‘At the End of the Day’ any more frequently than they already do,” I joke, and Astrid laughs loud enough to startle Benson.
“If high notes don’t scare you, you should try ‘Think of Me.’ It’s my personal favorite.”
I slip the boots on. Dammit, they’re a perfect fit.
“Oh, they suit you perfectly,” she says. I walk over to the mirror to see she’s right. It’s a shame I can never own them. “Have you always been a fan of the theater?”
“Always. When I was nine, I wanted to be a fly operator. I got a library card solely to borrow Stella Adler’sArt of Acting. One Christmas, Ciara and I got Barbies, and I made her wait a week to play with them so I could ‘get their backstories in order.’ She still brings it up.”
Astrid laughs. “Gosh, I haven’t thought about Stella in years. Uncle Val, my mother’s brother, worked in the theater. Did Lincoln tell you that?”
I shake my head.
She smiles down at her hands. “He took me backstage once, put a headset on me, let me watch from the wings.” Her mouth twists at one side. “I miss him a lot.”
“What happened?”
Astrid clears her throat. “It was a heart attack, which came as a surprise because he was very particular about what he ate. I was twenty-two, if you can believe it.” She touches her fingers to the pendant on her necklace, and suddenly, she looks very small.
Heartbroken.
“Simon was with me when I got the news,” she says. “It was our second date. Simon had taken me to this beautiful restaurant that he’d saved up three weeks’ pay for, and when the mains arrived, I burst into tears all over my monkfish.”
My eyes burn hot.
The music changes in the store, something pop-y I don’t recognize. It clashes with the moment, but I can’t exactly go over and ask them to change it. I’ve tried that once before, and they did not appreciate it.
Astrid moves slowly along the table, eyes lowered to the earring display, but the faraway lilt in her voice tells me she’s not really seeing them. I keep close, not wanting to miss a single word.
“He stayed up with me all night,” Astrid says. “Asked me all about him. Didn’t say a word when I ruined his best shirt with my mascara.” She smiles. “I think I fell in love with him in that moment.”
As soon as the boots are off my feet, Astrid walks them over to Benson. “Add these to my bill.”
“Astrid, I can’t let you?—”
She places her hand on my arm, her smile filled with a pleading that makes my heart squeeze. “Please let me. I’ve already crashed your date, and I’ve enjoyed getting to spend some time with you. Accept it as my thank-you for entertaining me.”
My mouth flaps uselessly until it’s obvious I’m going to give in. I nod. “Thank you.”
She hands me the boots. “It’s my pleasure.”
I’m speechless. Without hesitating, I step forward and wrap my arms around her.
Astrid startles. “Oh, you’re so sweet.” I wonder how often she gets hugged. Even at my maddest, I never went to bed without kissing my mother good night. Slowly, Astrid hugs back. “Thank you, Ivy. I’m so happy my son brought you into our lives.”
Guilt sours on my tongue, and I slip out of her hold. I really hate lying to her.
CHAPTER19
