The toffee in my purse isn’t anything but toffee, nothing but sugar and butter and salt and chocolate. There’s no reason to assign meaning to any of this.
Gunner barks at a streetlight flickering on beside us, and the playful sound helps lighten my steps even more.
This is going to be fine.
My feet take me the rest of the way to Watchmere before it’s full dark, the sun still lingering in the late summer sky.
The lighthouse beacon shines in the coming night. I run my fingers along the hydrangeas outside I helped plant when I was barely a teenager.
They’ve filled out beautifully.
“Right on time,” a strong voice says.
“I try.” My voice sounds cavalier and chipper, and I rub at the sudden ache in my chest.
Gunner barks, and I drop the leash as he bounds towards Caleb, jumping up on him and licking his face enthusiastically.
“Damn, you are looking good still. What are you feeding this dog, something from the Fountain of Youth? How old are you now, boy?”
“He’s a marvel of good breeding,” I lie carefully. “I make sure he takes his joint supplements, and he loves our morning runs.”
I don’t know what I’m going to do when Gunner is twenty-five and still looks five, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
“Damn, I think I need some of those supplements, huh buddy?” Caleb scratches behind Gunner’s ears, and Gunner practically dies of happiness from the attention from his second-favorite person.
“No, you look great,” I tell him automatically.
Caleb looks up from the dog at me, and my heart pangs.
“And you’re just as beautiful as ever,” he tells me.
We stand there for a long moment, watching each other as waves crash into the jetty, as Gunner pants and looks between us to see who will crack first.
“The glasses are new,” I comment, when I can’t stand the ratcheting tension a moment longer.
“So is all the gray,” he says, stroking his pepper and salt beard. “Cursed to be white-haired before my time, I think.”
“That’s not a curse. I’ve always thought white hair looks very distinguished.”
He gives me a long, considering look.
“Not that you have white hair yet, not even close,” I say hastily, trying to backtrack.
“So you’re saying I don’t look distinguished?” He pushes the glasses up on the bridge of his nose, completely abandoning petting Gunner and standing to his full height. “Even with these?”
I don’t tell him his glasses make him look slutty, but it’s a close thing.
“We all have our sexy accessories.” I pat the tote on my shoulder and try not to die of horror.
He blinks.
I blink.
Maybe if I blink twice I’ll vanish away from this horrible awkwardness.
“Anyway, how was your day? Get your coffee maker working?” There’s no way he got it working again.
Posey said the magic surge fried everything in a four-mile radius, that she’s been triaging repair calls all day and is about to try to hire someone from out of town part-time to help her sort everyone’s problems out.
