I reach out and rip the photo from the wall.
Jo’s eyes widen. “What the—”
“Souvenir,” I say, waving the photo at her before tucking it into mybra. I rummage around in my purse and pull out the mini stapler and Polaroid camera I always keep on hand.
“What are you up to, kitten?” Ollie asks.
“Well, I’ve got to replace it!” I say. “Alex wasn’t even in that one!”
Alex slaps a hand over his heart. “You do love me!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say. “I just love your cheese Danish.”
Ollie waves down another patron to take a photo of the four of us. Once it’s developed, I staple it to the wall and lean back to take in my work. “There,” I say. “That ought to freshen up the place.”
Jo sighs. She grabs my hand from across the table and kicks off the weepy goodbyes when she says, “I can’t believe you’re leaving meagain.”
We cry at the table, then move through Mitch’s before lingering in the parking lot. Finally, Jo and I manage to pull away from each other and get into our own cars. I’m too weepy to drive, and though I am the designated driver by default, Ollie, anticipating exactly this, hardly drank at all and slides into the driver’s seat. “Are you all right, kitten?” he says.
I find a tissue in the glove box of our rental car and dab at my eyes. When I look at Ollie, I see the hesitation on his face. The poor soul, everything I’ve put him through—he’s worried I regret leaving.
I take his hand in mine. “I’m wonderful, Oliver. I’m excited.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You are? Coming back doesn’t make you wish you’d stayed?”
I press his hand against my cheek. “Not at all. I have a new job. New home. New baby. New adventures. Same old husband, though. Think I should upgrade?”
When Ollie laughs, his dimples appear, and I have to squeeze his hand to keep from leaning over to bite them.
“I’ve got something for you,” Ollie says.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Dunno,” he says, pulling his hand from mine to reach into the pocket of his jeans. “Do I need an occasion to give my wife a gift?”
“Absolutely not. Iamthe occasion.”
Ollie grins and pulls his hand from his pocket, bringing with it a delicate gold chain and medal. I take it in my hands, tracing my finger over the image of Saint Valentine on one side before turning it over to trace the inscription on the other.
“I’d have given it to you sooner, but I got the chain from Butch. It’s vintage. Picked it up yesterday.”
“It’s lovely,” I say. “Won’t it feel weird to not have the medal in your pocket anymore?”
“Nah,” he says. “It’ll be exactly where it belongs.”
“Help a girl out.” I pass him the medal and turn around. Ollie’s fingers warm my skin when he puts the chain around my neck. I think of our wedding day and how I felt when he helped unzip my dress. I want to laugh at the memory. How could I have been so clueless to think there was nothing between us? Once the necklace is fastened, Ollie’s hands find my shoulders, and he leans forward to kiss the back of my neck.
“How do I look?” I say, turning to face him again.
“You look marvelous, Nina Lejeune.”
“Nina Lejeune-Dunne,” I say.
Ollie shakes his head. “What do you mean?”
“I changed my name.”
“No, you didn’t.”
