“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”
“You’re beautiful.” His gaze locks with mine. “And I’ve only known you a few hours, but I already know that you are a truly good person.”
My cheeks are burning. “Um. Thank you,” I say hoarsely. “That was profoundly inaccurate, but it’s still a very generous compliment.”
“Ted.” He knocks his knee with mine. I peer up, and he holds my eyes. “Trust me. It’s accurate.”
Argos whines outside the door again. Alex tears his gaze away and stands, nodding toward the kitchen door. “Come on. Let’s go check on the pea-brain.”
Argos is much happier, now that we’re together and it isn’t in a sweltering third-floor apartment. He’s on his stomach, chin resting on my feet, while Alex and I sit side by side on orange crates behind the restaurant’s kitchen. Heads tipped back, we take in the cloudless night sky, a black plum speckled with sugar.
“So,” I say, “Pittsburghdoeshave stars.”
A faint laugh leaves Alex. “Sometimes.”
“Didn’t see it coming. When you picked me up, the sky looked like someone had thrown it a mean right hook.”
He nods. “Yeah it was pretty rough. Which felt fitting.”
Quiet settles between us. I glance over at him and ask, “Do you like to read?”
“Yep. Audiobooks are my jam. Why?”
I stare up at the stars again. “Moments like this… they feel like what I love most about books. These little reminders that we aren’t alone.”
Alex lets out a softhmm.“You mean the stars showing up?”
“Yes. And us, too, showing up for each other. It… helps.”
Alex glances my way. “Yeah, it does help.”
“It’ll get better, right?” I ask. “We won’t always feel this messed up?”
A heavy sigh leaves him. “Honestly, Ted, a few days ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. But”—he nudges my shoulder with his—“feeling a bit more optimistic, now.”
Warmth blooms through me. I nudge him back.
Alex peers down, deeply focused on his gelato. “Thanks, by the way.”
“For what? Eating your delicious food? Gorging my way through thirty dollars’ worth of your family’s gelato without paying?”
He throws me a wry smile. “For listening. Being kind. Hoovering my cold lasagna like it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten.”
“Itisthe best thing I’ve ever eaten.” I pinch his elbow. “I did not hoover it, though.”
“You did,” he says. His smile turns wider. “Trust me, it’s a compliment. Nothing strokes a cook’s ego like watching someone tear through the food they’ve made.”
“Well, then, please know I’ll be happy to stroke itanytime.”
Once I say it, I realize how suggestive that sounds.
Alex pokes his tongue against his cheek. He’s trying very hard not to laugh.
“You knew what I meant!” I shove his shoulder with mine. “Stop being juvenile.”
“This coming from the woman who said earlier, ‘sucks donkey dong.’?”
A laugh jumps out of me. “True. But divorce deserved it.”
