“I don’t suppose you have Capri-Sun?”
The server laughed, and I laughed too, to cover up that it was a serious question.
“Piña colada?” I asked, and the server made a face, but nodded.
“A piña colada with charcuterie?” Jack asked dubiously as the server left.
“I like coconut.”
Jack narrowed his eyes a moment and then adjusted himself on the trestle bench and smoothed his cape. MissCrumpets sat shivering next to him. “I guess we should do the date thing,” he said. “And get to know each other. I’ll be honest: I haven’t been on a real date since I was eighteen.”
Relief frothed in my chest like foam. “I have been on only two dates in my life, and both of those have been in the last two weeks.”
Jack’s pretty lips twitched. “The slut and the widower, learning how to date together. That could be the start of a great porno, you know. Or a romance novel.”
“I think we’ll do very well together,” I replied, and then tapped my fist against my mouth when I realized how suggestive that sounded. “I meant the learning to date part. Not the porno part. Um. Sorry.”
Jack’s mouth twitch turned into a real smile. Not a big one, but a real one, and it wasn’t even sarcastic. “Isaac, it’s okay. I think we’d work well together in a porn too.”
“I don’t want to make it sound like I’m assuming. About us being together like that again. You know, just because of your old job.”
His smile faltered a little, but he didn’t seem angry or embarrassed. Instead, he rolled his lips briefly inward in thought. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “Most people definitely expect a certain ending to a date with a porn star.”
“Honestly, my only hope is that tonight isn’t a complete disaster.”
“That’s a sweet hope,” he said. “And also, just so you know... I’m not saying no to that certain ending either.” There was a glint in his gaze now, a glint that spoke of wicked, wicked things.And then he added, “Keeping in mind the meat and cheese portion of our date, I suppose. Actually, my charcuterie guy in LA makes a fabulous pre-sex board, the No Farty Charty, and—”
A new server appeared right then with the drinks, and Jack didn’t even blink, although he did pause his description of the sex charcuterie. And then our server came to our table with our Midwinter Gathering Board... cheese, meat, crackers, and fruit, all shaped into the unmistakable silhouette of a Christmas tree.
A pile near the top of the tree was a colorful heap of blueberries and loose grapes, and I took a berry and ate it while the server pointed at each bit of cheese and meat and gave us the tragic backstories for all of them.
While the server talked, a scraggly white head appeared by Jack’s elbow. Eyes half-shiny with cataracts appraised the artistic folds of meat and neat stacks of sliced cheese. And then—with that syrupy-slow feeling of terrible, unstoppable things—MissCrumpets surged forward, mouth open, and snarfed something right off the board.
Jack was already trying to grab at her; I yanked the board away; blueberries and grapes rolled all over the table and bounced onto the floor.
“I’ll get the broom,” the server said quickly as Jack was panicking, trying to wedge his dog’s tiny jaws apart to see if she still had the contraband inside.
“Did you see if it was a blueberry or a grape?” Jack asked me, his voice shaking. “Was it a blueberry or a grape?Oh God. Do you have any hydrogen peroxide?” he demanded of the server, who’d just returned with a broom. “And an oral syringe?”
“Sir, this is a charcuterie restaurant,” the server said.
“We have to get to an emergency vet now,” Jack declared, scooping MissCrumpets into his arms and standing. She looked around the room, giving unbothered, curled-tongue pants inevery direction. I stood as well and hurriedly dug into my wallet and extracted a bunch of twenties. I wedged them under the charcuterie board, gave my hurried apology to the server, and then followed the half-jogging Jack out the door.
An hour later, we were sitting in the waiting room of an emergency vet in Burlington. MissCrumpets had been taken behind an ominous metal door to be assessed, and Jack now had his head in his hands. I was touching his shoulder because it seemed like a touching kind of situation, but also I wasn’t sure how much touching would be normal for a first-date-turned-veterinary-visit.
“She’ll be okay,” I said in my most reassuring tone.
“What if she’s not?” Jack whispered, not looking up.
As I’d told Sunny, Carina was not the kind of mom who’d been interested in having house-animals, so I had no idea what to say to someone who might lose their dog. But I knew a thing or two about death. “Then it will be horrible,” I answered honestly.
Jack did look up then, handsome face incredulous. “Those are your words of comfort?”
I untucked my low bun and ran my hand through my hair, trying to find the right way to explain. “I wish someone had told me the truth before Brooklyn died,” I said. “I wish someone would have said,This is going to suck and no one can fix this for you, because then I wouldn’t have felt so useless and broken after. I would’ve known it was normal to feel so fucked up.”
He put his face back in his hands. “Oh God.”
I patted his shoulder again, a little awkwardly. I wished Sunny were here. She’d know the right things to say, some kind of joke to make. She wouldn’t be shy about giving someone who needed it a giant hug. All I was good for was moping.
