Once outside, Ive remembered the corkscrew and went back in, leaving her alone to gaze up at the starry sky. He found it on the table, then rooted around in a dresser drawer for a couple of thick sweaters. It was cold enough that they’d need them, along with the quilt.
From the door, he took a quick glance around and spotted the two scarves on the floor. Should he?
No. The blindfolds stayed here. Whatever happened between them out there tonight, they’d have their eyes wide open.
* * *
They got settled in the back of the truck. Tailgating, Ivan called it, although it seemed more like camping to Uma.
“Girl, this ain’t nothin’ like campin’. You want to see how we do it out here, I’ll take you with me someday. Up there.” He motioned to the mountains behind the trees. “Appalachian trail’s just up over that first rise. Could do some hikin’, have ourselves a campfire.”
“Roast marshmallows?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Make s’mores.”
She said, “I’m in,” and his chuckle morphed into a happy little sound.
After making her put on one of his enormous sweaters, he pulled the sleeping bag from the cab of the truck and spread it out for them like a blanket, then set everything up again. Uma liked it this way, just them under the stars.
Ivan served wine. This time, the sound of their two glasses clinking together in a toast didn’t bring with it a flood of memories. Uma was right there, in the back of a truck, with this big, handsome man who’d gone out of his way to treat her like a princess.
Ivan leaned against the back of the cab and snuggled her into the crook of his arm. The stars were even more incredible, leaning back like this.
“What kind of moon’s that?” she asked.
“Almost a first quarter.”
“How can you tell if it’s coming or going? Lord, I should know that. My mom would kill me.”
“Remember how dark it was the night you tried to sleep in your car?”
“Yeah.”
“That was the new moon.”
“Oh. So now it’s waxing?”
“Yep.” Ivan leaned forward to snag one of his little burgers, handed it to her, and made quick work of two of his own. “What do you think?”
“Delicious.”
“Didn’t even know what you liked to eat.”
“My mom’s a hippy. Tried to bring me up vegan.”
“What’s that?”
“Vegetarian, except without eggs or cheese or anything like that.”
“Oh, so you—”
“I rebelled. Love meat and cheese and eggs. And”—she clinked her glass to his again—“red wine.”
“Better than white?”
“Yeah, it’s”—she took another sip and swished it around her mouth the way she’d seen Joey do in posher restaurants—“rich, and I don’t know. Carnal or something.”
“Carnal?”
