“Now, what about you two lovebirds?” Possibly Alicia asked.
“He needs a gift.” Libby fully intended to explain that it wasn’t for her, but the woman behind the counter didn’t give her a chance.
“And you’re here to make sure he doesn’t cheap out. Say no more. Wish I’d done that with my last boyfriend. He gave me lingerie for Valentine’s Day.No tags,I thought to myself.He must be pretty confident he got the right size.But was that why the tags were off?”
“No?” Libby guessed.
“No,” the other woman confirmed. “It was because he borrowed the whole set from his other girlfriend. Who had already worn it, by the way. What kind of person does that?”
This time Jefferson filled in the blank. “Your ex?”
“The tightwad! A nightie, maybe, but a G-string? No, thank you.” She stared into space, lost in memories.
“Sounds like you’re better off without him?” Libby ventured, when an uncomfortable amount of time had passed.
“Dropped him like he was hot. Which he wasn’t. A tiger in the sheets, though. Short guys.” The other woman tapped her temple. “They have more to prove, if you get what I’m saying.”
“I—think so,” Libby said.
“File that away for later. In case you don’t always have this tall drink of water to quench your thirst.” She eyed Jefferson appreciatively.
“It’s not like that.” Libby was pretty sure her cheeks were hotter than the crepe pan she’d burned herself on this morning.
“Can’t get enough, huh? I thought I was picking up those crazy-in-love vibes. You’re going to want something to help you remember this feeling later, when you start to get on each other’s nerves. A tasteful pendant, perhaps?”
The speed of the pivot left Libby dizzy. “He’s not here for me. I’m helping him choose—for someone else.”
“My sister,” Jefferson said.
“Susan, you mean? Or do you have another one?” Was it pathetic how excited Libby was to show off her insider knowledge of his life? A little. Was that going to stop her? Nope.
“She’s the only one. What about you?”
“No siblings. It was just me and my mom.” When her mom was around. “She used to bring me here. To try her luck.” Libby nodded at the shallow tank of pick-a-pearl oysters, fifteen dollars a pop. “Never stopped believing she was going to find a huge one, worth way more than she paid.”
Jefferson considered this for a moment. “Gambler or romantic?”
“Yes.” Also easily distracted by a bit of sparkle. Ready to buy into a good story, even if she’d made it up herself. Always chasing something new instead of being satisfied with what she had. Once, Libby had opened a tin on her mother’s dresser, expecting breath mints, and found a dozen mismatched pearls, dusty andforgotten. It was the getting that mattered to her mom, not the keeping.
And yet she constantly complained about how hard it was to find lasting love, never considering that maybe she onlythoughtshe wanted to settle down. Her mother’s choices—still serial dating, after all these years—told a different story. The last time they talked, her mom was in Vegas with someone new. Libby hadn’t bothered committing the guy’s name to memory. As a kid, she’d made the mistake of believing one or two of her mom’s boyfriends were stepdad material, in it for the long haul, but it always turned out thatshewas more attached to them than her mother had ever been.
Was that what she was doing with Jefferson? Deluding herself into a broken heart?
“Should we give it a try?” he asked.
It was an effort to wrestle her thoughts back to the present. “An oyster?”
He nodded.
“Okay.” She would do it for Susan, whom she would probably never meet. “What are your nieces’ names?” Libby asked suddenly, wanting to collect another piece of Jefferson.
“Abby and Louise.”
“Pretty.”
“I’ll tell them you said so.”
The thought of Jefferson mentioning her to his nieces lodged in Libby’s chest like a warm little ember of hope.
