“Oh my God,” he said. “Why don’t people still make this?”
Reagan laughed. He held the pan out to her, and she took a bite, too.
Mason was clean-shaven. His eyes were blue. He was square-faced and handsome.
He motioned at the front of his sweater with his spoon. “We do this ugly-Christmas-sweater thing now.”
Reagan nodded. “My family does that, too.”
He looked down at her chest, confused. She was wearing a snug black V-neck.
“Not me,” she said. “Fuck that.”
Mason laughed and offered her the pan again.
Reagan took another bite of Jell-O salad. There were three layers—raspberry Jell-O, whipped cream cheese with sugar, and crushed pretzels. “So are you back in DC now?”
“I was,” he said, “for a month or two. Then I bought a house in Omaha.”
Her head jerked up. “You moved back toNebraska?”
Mason nodded. He was more earnest-looking this close. In the daylight. (And he’d already seemed pretty earnest in the dark.) “Yeah, DC just felt too far, after everything. And my apartment seemed so small ... So I bought a house in Omaha. My brother says I got ripped off, but it’spalatialcompared to what I could afford back east. I feel like a Major League Baseball player.”
Reagan laughed. This was a lot of laughing. “Did you quit your job?”
“No. I’m still remote.”
“Me, too.”
“That’s good.” He frowned. “I mean, is that good?”
“It’s what I wanted,” she said.
“Well then, good.” He took another bite of Jell-O salad. He had the pan in his lap. “I’m eating a lot of this, is that okay?”
“God, yeah,” she said, “my nieces and nephews won’t touch it. They say dessert shouldn’t be salty.”
“Okay,” he said with his mouth full, “well,one, this isn’t a dessert; it’s a salad. And,two, the saltiness is the best part.”
“You can have as much as you want,” she said.
“I will.”
Reagan smiled—then bit both her lips for a second. “Was, um ... was everything okay last year?”
Mason looked up into her eyes. “Last year? You mean ...”
“With your family,” she said. “Your brother coming into the house.”
“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head. “It was fine. I mean, of course it was, right? What were the chances?”
She nodded. “Did you get vaccinated?”
“Fuck yeah,” he said. “I don’t care if it makes me grow another leg. I was first in line.”
Reagan nodded some more. “Yeah, same.”
“Give me some of that hot, fresh gene therapy,” Mason went on, chewing. “I mean ... hopefully wedon’tall grow extra legs ...”
