“Abrupt subject change, no?” I squinted at her for a moment. “Wait, are you serious?”
“Why not?” She reached up and wiped mustard from my lip with her index finger, then stuck it in her mouth.
Jesus Christ, woman.
“I can get us some pot,” I said in a daze.
“Maybe next time.” She shrugged goofily, a flash of Grace from the past.
“Aren’t you worried one of your students will see you?”
“I was thinking we could go back to your place.”
“Uh, sure. We can.” I nodded vigorously, like an overeager schoolboy. “Yeah, not a problem.”
“Look!” She pointed to a young guy giving his girlfriend a piggyback ride, running in circles as she screamed joyously.
Grace smiled up at me and then her eyes filled with tears.Fuck, don’t cry, Grace. Please. I’ll die.
“I can still do that. I’m not that old,” I told her.
She started laughing as tears ran down her face. “Well, Old Man Shore, I’d let you try, but I’m wearing a skirt.”
“You were saying something about going back to my place?” I tried to pull off an innocent look.
“Yeah, if you want. I’d like to see your place.”
“You would?”
“Of course. I want to see where you live; I’m not offering to sleep with you.”
“Pfft. I know.... I wasn’t thinking that.” Though I was totally thinking that.
The subway was crowded during rush hour. Grace stood with her back to my front and leaned against me. I wondered if her eyes were closed. I bent and whispered nearher ear, “We could have taken a cab or walked. I forget that we’re grown-ups now.”
“I like taking the subway with you.”
I pulled her closer against my body. It felt like all the years I’d lost with her never existed.
When we got to my building, the elevator opened to my loft on the fourth floor and Grace stepped out in front of me. She immediately looked up to the exposed-beam ceiling. I flipped on the lights. “This is gorgeous, Matt.”
“I like it.”
There was still a little bit of light left in the sky, casting a nice glow throughout the room. Grace walked to windows. “You can probably see the top of my house from here.”
“No, you can’t.” She turned and smiled. “Can I get you a glass of wine?” I asked.
“That would be great.”
She walked around my sparse loft as I went into the kitchen. The bedroom, kitchen, and living room flowed into each other within a large, high-ceilinged, open space, separated only by a few beams. As I poured the wine, I watched her run her hand across my white comforter.
“Your place is really nice. I like the rustic feel. Usually people go for modern in a space like this.”
“Call me old-fashioned.”
“I don’t think you’re old-fashioned.” She was standing near the wall, staring up at the picture that had won me so many awards.
“Passé?” I asked as I handed her the glass.
