“I’m not sure.” I sigh. “On the one hand, I could probably come up with something that would work in like five minutes. But on the other hand...”
“Why help the guy who broke your heart?”
I catch a glimpse of my own sad smile in the window of the little ice-cream shop we’re in front of. “Yeah. Something like that.”
It’s a weird feeling. I want to be wanted, but not for what I can do, just for who I am. And not by John.
Miles opens the door and I walk in, pensive as I order pistachio gelato, which Miles refuses to let me pay for. “Save your money for The Porch.” He nudges me with his elbow, and I smile, trying not to think about John or his favor or the fact that, yes, once upon a time, he broke my heart.
But then I realize it feels a little more distant than it used to. Less painful to remember.
And maybe that’s what they mean by “time heals all wounds.” The pain is still there, but it’s duller than it used to be. Is it silly to hope that one day it might actually disappear?
The bubbly girl behind the counter hands Miles his raspberry cheesecake ice cream with a smile, and we walk back outside. “There’s a park not far from here. Ice-cream walk?” he says.
“Sure,” I say, not ready for the night to be over.
Something else I choose not to analyze.
“Are you just trying to make me feel better about getting ditched?” I ask.
“Heck no, I just wanted ice cream,” he says. But then, even though he’s not looking at me, I catch his smile.
I give him a playful shove, and he laughs. “It’s too bad you refuse to date anyone for real.”
“Why?” He takes a bite and leads me into a park with a big ornate gazebo at the center of it.
“Because you’re actually one of the good ones,” I say. “Seems a shame to stick women with guys like Roger and Scott and Greg and keep yourself off the market.”
He sits on the top step of the gazebo and brushes the space beside him, as if to clear a spot for me. I sit.
“Maybe I’m actually a terrible person,” he says playfully. “I could be the absolute worst.”
“Are you?”
“Nah.” He holds his bowl of ice cream out in my direction. “Trade?”
I look down at my gelato, then at his ice cream. “Fine, but only a few bites.”
We swap cups and eat in silence for a few seconds.
My phone buzzes again, and I wince an apology. “I just need to make sure it’s not Minnie.” I pull it out of my purse and see another text from John on the screen.
Miles sees it too. “Not Minnie?”
I stare at it for a beat. “Maybe I should make sure it’s notaboutMinnie.”
Miles takes a bite of my gelato as I click the phone open and read John’s texts.
John: Hey, C, checking in on the Oleander account. Thoughts?
John: We’re meeting the client early next week so if you’ve got something, I’d love to hear it.
John: Even just a tagline would help...?
John: You there? I really need you to come through on this.
John: I’ll be up, just let me know what you come up with.
