“Everything okay?” Ben asked, returning to the table and putting his hands on the back of my chair.
“Yeah,” I said, glancing at Leo. “We were just catching up.”
“I gotta get back to work,” he announced, as if I’d been the one tearing him away from his job. “See you around, Louna.”
I nodded, and then, thankfully, he was leaving, going back behind the counter. “Nice guy,” Ben observed. “I like the beard.”
I smiled, turning around to look up at him. “Don’t get any ideas.”
In response, he leaned down, kissing the top of my head. Another sneak attack, but this time I didn’t react.Progress, I thought, and had a flash of how we must look from the outside, a happy couple having breakfast and some mild PDA at the beginning of a late summer day. I wasn’t sure what it meant that I did this often when it came to Ben and me,stepping outside of myself to consider us from a distance, like an observer rather than participant in the relationship.Because you know you’re going through the motions, a dark, quiet voice replied, the one I heard sometimes late at night when I couldn’t sleep. To be honest, this was the same time I found myself missing Ambrose—his breaking of office supplies, melty croissants, and, maybe, kindness—in a way I couldn’t explain. In broad daylight, though, it was easy to silence: I pushed out my chair, getting to my feet, and it was gone.
“So you’re off at six?” I asked Ben as we headed for the door, passing Phone Lady, who was still talking loudly, a bite of scone now in her mouth.
He pushed the door open, holding it for me. “Yeah. Then I’ve got some top-secret birthday stuff to do. But I’ll see you around eight.”
“Ben,” I said, as he joined me outside, then took my hand. “You don’t have to do anything for my birthday.”
“Oh, right,” he replied. “Because that’s exactly how you hold on to a wonderful girlfriend, ignoring her big day. I’mnotthat thick-headed, Barrett.”
“You’re coming to the dinner,” I told him. “Seriously. That’s all I want.”
“Too bad. You’re getting more,” he replied. I sighed. “Don’t get mad. Just reporting the facts.”
Ha-ha. The truth was, with everything that had been going on lately—this new relationship, plus getting ready to leave for school in a matter of weeks—my birthday, a littleover a week away on July 22, kept slipping my mind. Normally I could have also blamed event fatigue, as this was thick in the marriage season. But after Maya and Roger’s event, not to mention the ones every summer of my life so far, I’d decided to take a break from work to try to enjoy the time I had left at home wedding-free.
“Well, I think it’s a wonderful idea,” my mother had said when I proposed this a couple of hours after her return from St. Samara, as we sat drinking iced tea on the back porch. “God knows you’ve earned some time off. After this vacation, I’m even more aware of how important things other than work are to your quality of life.”
“She’s basically memorized John’s book,” William told me. “It’s like she’s in a cult now.”
“Oh, stop it,” my mom said. Then she blushed, slightly, the same way I’d noticed she did every time John was mentioned in conversation, which was, well, constantly, usually by her. “Enjoy your summer, Louna. We’ll be fine.”
“See, now Iknowyou’re in love,” William told her. “Because the old Natalie would immediately be freaking out that we have four weddings ahead and will be down our best employee.”
“That’s nice,” I said to him, touched. “Thanks.”
“Don’t get too excited. There’s only Ambrose to compare you to,” he replied, taking a swig of his tea. He was still wearing the straw hat he’d bought for the trip, which he now tipped back on his head and said, “What?”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
“You just made a weird face.”
“Did I?” I picked up my own glass. “Didn’t mean to. Maybe I’m not used to compliments?”
“Maybe,” he said slowly, as I took a sip. My mother, across the patio table, was looking at her phone, another new habit since the vacation. John had already texted three times since I’d picked them up, by my count. “Well, I for one will miss you terribly and am selfish enough to hope you get bored out of your mind and decide to rejoin us on the front lines. But I’m not in love.”
“Yet,” my mother said, eyes still on her screen.
“Yet?” I asked. “Can you arrange a timeline for something like that?”
“No,” she replied, putting the phone aside. “But youcanset up a date with potential for it. Which is what William agreed to do while we were away, with his cheese friend.”
“He’s not my cheese friend,” William said immediately. Now he was blushing. “And I made that promise after a night of champagne on an exotic island. I can’t be held responsible.”
“Nonsense,” my mother said, waving her hand. “It counts. And you’ll reach out to him this week, because John and I both saw you swear to it.”
“John again,” William said to me. “Get ready to hear that name a lot. I know I have. Next thing you know he’ll be moving in.”
“Doesn’t he live in St. Samara?” I asked.
