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“I’m telling you, it’s not coming off,” I said.

“And I am telling you that you haven’t tried everything and we can’t go around with this on your face. What if there are children? Aha!” She held up a bottle.

I eyed it. “What is that?”

“Beauty oil,” she said, putting her purse on the floor.

She took a napkin from the center console and put a few drops on it, then she scooted closer to me. I backed away and froze like a human ice sculpture with my shoulder blades stuck to the door.

She blinked at me balking. “Are you going to let me do this or not?” she asked.

“No. Give it to me.”

She gave me a look, but she let me take the napkin. Thank God. My heart was galloping.

We did not touch. Ever. Not once in all the time I’d known her. Not a hug or a handshake. I don’t know at what point I decided that touching her was something I was never going to do, but I had. I avoided it so much I couldn’t tell you with certainty that I’d catch her if she fell.

I wiped at the marker while she watched from the passenger seat. The oil smelled faintly familiar because it was one of the many scents that made up her.

“I have a funny story to tell you,” she said, her eyes fixed on the side of my face.

“Oh yeah?”

“Woofarine got into a lot of trouble yesterday.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“He got run over by a lady pushing a cart full of tamales.”

I stopped wiping my face. “What?”

“I was sitting outside and Woofarine was with me. I had him leashed to the lawn chair. The lady came zipping around the corner out of nowhere and he went for the tire. Got run over right in front of me.”

I stared at him on her lap. He looked proud of himself—and fine. “Is he okay?”

“I mean, obviously. He popped out completely unscathed. Not a scratch on him except for a little tuft of fur missing on his cheek.”

I blinked at her and she shrugged.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this,” I said.

“I was seeing you in a few hours and what was there to tell? Our dog is immortal, we should get used to it. I got free tamales out of it,” she said.

“You didn’t get me any?” I teased.

“Uh, I did actually. The chicken ones you like. They’re in the freezer. You can get them the next time you come over.”

I smiled.

“Also, I brought you something,” she said, going back to her purse. She dug around and came out with a book. “For you.”

I lowered the napkin. It was Cross Stitch. “You’re giving me your copy?” I said, looking at her.

“No. I got you your own. Mine is really beat up. The spine is broken and there’s water damage. I wanted to get you a nicer one. I found one at a used bookstore. It’s like new. I traded in a bunch of my hardcovers in exchange for it.”

I set the napkin down and took the book gently from her. I couldn’t believe I was holding this. “Thank you,” I breathed.

“You’re welcome. I had a feeling you wouldn’t let me pay for gas, so I had to give you something.”