“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Ask the incorrect question.”
She took a breath.
“If nobody knew who you were, and none of the photographs had happened, what would you want now?”
“I’d want to date you.”
Ellie looked over.
“Date me.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds strangely ordinary.”
“I have become interested in ordinary things.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
Her expression changed.
“Sorry,” I said. “That sounded worse than I intended.”
“It sounded honest.”
“I meant I don’t know how long I’ll remain fascinated by grocery stores and free afternoons. I know I want you.”
“That part is easier to say.”
“Yes.”
“What would dating look like?”
I rubbed my palm against the rough surface of the seawall.
“Dinner somewhere neither of us works. You visiting me and hating my furniture. Me coming here without pretending I’m somebody else. Calls that don’t require written permission forever.”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually.”
“My life is here.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I understand the words. I may not understand every part yet.”
Ellie looked at me, perhaps surprised by the answer.
“My work involves travel,” I continued. “I don’t want to give it up, and I don’t think you want me to.”
“I don’t.”
