He nods. “I saw everyone coming in the door after us and decided to order for all of us. Is a scoop of mint chip in a chocolate waffle cone okay? Wyatt says that’s your favorite.”
More than okay. Be still my heart. I will make room, in my stomach and in this booth. I nod that he did good and pat the spot next to me so he knows it’s fine to squish in. Liam tries for a half-in, half-out perch, but immediately gets nailed in the knee by a kid running by.
He groans in pain.
“You okay?” I ask. “Just squeeze in here. I don’t have cooties.”
“Kay.” He shuffles over until we’re shoulder to shoulder andthigh to thigh, and the silence is killing me. The place is louder than a hallway full of kids let loose for recess, but our silence is louder. Everywhere we touch feels perfect, but also wrong. Liam has spent years perfecting the art of keeping his distance from me.
I’m thinking about the contents of our letters to each other this week and how he reacted when I squeezed past him at dinner. He didn’t recoil. He froze. Is that the same as recoiling? I don’t think it is.
Not knowing what else to do, I pull out my wallet and remove a ten-dollar bill to pay him for the ice cream.
Liam gives me a look. “Someone told me to buy them dessert in exchange for details about their date.”
“I was kidding. My details are sparse but free.”
“I’m still not taking your cash.”
“Fine.” I put back the ten and pull out a small stack of trading cards instead, setting them down between Wyatt and his friend on the red Formica tabletop. I can tell they’re getting antsy for their ice cream to arrive. This place is fancy enough that they don’t hand you your orders over the counter. Employees wearing paper hats bring it to your table on trays with cone holders.
“Are these cards any good?” I ask the boys. “I found them on a shelf in my apartment laundromat, and when no one claimed them after a few weeks, I put them in my wallet to ask you about.”
They go to work shuffling through the cards and analyzing their value, which is minimal, but it keeps them busy.
“Thank you,” Liam murmurs. “I don’t know how you do that.”
“Hoard things for the perfect moment?”
“Know exactly what people need.”
“It’s why you hired me.”
“I hired you because I sensed your goodness. I wasn’t wrong.”
I’m used to Liam expressing his appreciation. I’ve just never experienced it while sitting this close to him. We’re both watching the boys, but all my focus is fine-tuned to him. “I stayed because I sensed yours.”
He doesn’t say anything, and when I sneak a glance at his face, he’s got that concentrated frown going on. He’s probablythinking about all the things that disqualify him from being truly good. I’m not sure if he’s always been like this or if Esther made him question everything about himself, but he’s someone who worries a lot about doing the right thing.
I’m in no position to judge goodness. A better person would move closer to the kid instead of enjoying the warmth of Liam’s side pressed against theirs, but I don’t move, not even when our ice cream comes and we’re all elbows. I pick up a plastic spoon and take a tiny swipe of hot fudge from Liam’s sundae. Might as well seal my path towards evil.
The two boys receive their cups of bubble gum ice cream, which I am not the least bit tempted to steal, and the girl who drove her brother to practice looks up from her phone long enough to thank the staff member and take her chocolate shake with whipped cream. Then she’s engrossed in whatever’s on her phone once again.
Liam digs into his hot fudge sundae and savors his first bite. “Define sparse.”
It takes me a second to compute, and then I smile. “Trey was nice, and we’re going out again, hopefully on a double date with my sister and her boyfriend.”
“Really?” He immediately subdues his shock and puts on his supportive face. “I’m glad it went well.”
“You are not glad. You’re questioning my judgement.”
“He seemed a little… drunk.”
“But a nice drunk. And in his defense, the older ladies behind us were pretty insistent on refilling his wine glass.”
“Which he emptied. Into his mouth. How old is he?”
“I’m not sure, but they carded us at the door.” Our tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of tension building, and I don’t know if it’s from my irritation or his, or just the fear of where this conversation is going. “So, is this our new normal?”