“It wasn’t important. You were just staring at that family.”
“Was I?” Kit asked, blinking at me. “I didn’t mean to. I hope they didn’t notice.”
I wanted to ask him if he wanted a family like that someday, but his dad came back at that moment, both hands wrapped artfully around three huge glasses.
“This is stronger than you’re used to, Andy,” Teddy warned as he sat down opposite us.
“It’s also not chilled,” Kit added.
“I know, I remember the look on your face when I handed you one that was.”
“I’ve come to appreciate it,” Kit said. “For the temperature if not the flavor.”
“They say American beer is like making love in a canoe,” Teddy said.
I had no idea what that meant.
“Fucking close to water,” he finished, grinning the same grin Kit did when he was happy with how a joke landed.
“Hey!” I objected, but I couldn’t stop myself laughing.
It was obvious where Kit got his sense of humor from.
“It’s not pick on America hour, just because we’re on your home turf,” I added while Kit and his dad chuckled.
“You know, back in New York you blend in so much that I’d stopped noticing how adorable your Americanness is,” Kit said.
“I’m not adorable,” I complained, sipping my beer.
I wasn’t about to give Kit the satisfaction of saying it was good, but itwasgood.
I let Kit and his dad debate over what to order for dinner and settled deep into the worn booth cushions, soaking in the atmosphere. Everyone seemed to be having a nice, peaceful time. There were families eating together, kids running around, and no one yelling at them. Christmas music playing at a low volume through crackling speakers, the smell of beer and people hanging in the air.
A sudden pang hit me as I thought of home, my friends, my favorite bar. An actual, physical pain in my chest at the thought of everything I missed, even though it’d only been a day.
Did Kit feel like this all the time? Even when he was surrounded by people he liked and otherwise happy?
“Are you all right?” Kit murmured, close enough that his dad wouldn’t have overheard.
“Fine,” I said. “Just... homesick, I think.”
“Ah,” Kit said. “You’ve had a long, strange day. It’s only natural.”
“Does it always feel like this?”
“Like what?” Kit asked.
“Like someone’s pushing the end of a baseball bat up under my ribs?”
Kit made a soft, sympathetic noise.
Which I thought probably meant that it felt like that for him, too.
“Best to ignore it, it’ll go away when you’re focused on something else. Unless you’d like to go back?”
I shook my head. Not only did I not want to look silly in front of Kit’s dad, I didn’t want to miss out on this. It wasnice.
Kit was right, it’d go away.
“Can’t believe you do this all the time,” I said. I’d understood the concept of homesickness, but I’d never felt it like this before.
“I find you very comforting,” Kit confessed softly.
He slipped his hand into mine under the table, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“I’m okay,” I said, squeezing his fingers. “Did we decide what we were gonna eat?”
