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He ducked his head modestly. “Emerson Leigh let me know when you were on your way. She helped me set this all up. You remember when we got stuck in the copy room together?”

“I could never forget that.”

He looked up and met my eyes. “That was her, too. She was trying to set us up.”

I snorted. “Well, it worked.” I reached for his hands, which were lying on the table tantalizingly close to mine, but he pulled them away. “Did she also tell you that I forgave you for lying to me?”

“She didn’t. But I’m happy to hear it.” He reached under his chair, coming up with another paper bag. “This is for you, too.”

Pastries? I crossed my fingers for Dominique Ansel, my favorite bakery. But as I took the bag and unwrapped the box inside, I pulled out the most perfect thing I’d ever seen. “The beagle teapot!” I cried. I’d nearly forgotten about the adorable porcelain appliance—its ears the handle, its snout the spout—that I’d admired in the window of the teapot store on our way to Wander. “You remembered!”

“I remembered.” This time, he took my hands. I set the teapot down gently in the middle of the table, and while it was hard to stop gazing at such a thing of beauty, I looked over at him. His eyes were soft, watching me admire the teapot like he was admiring something even more exquisite and beautiful. “Julie.”

Hearing the sound of my name coming out of his mouth, spoken like he’d just eaten the most delectable chocolate croissant, set my whole body aglow. “Bennett.”

From the way his face lit up at the sound, it was safe to assume the same was true for him. “Let’s do this,” he said, squeezing my hands. His thumbs rested in the cups of my palms. “For real. I want to be with you.”

I squeezed back. However cheesy it sounded, it was like my heart was literally singing in my chest. I felt I might burst out into song myself. “I want to be with you, too.”

And suddenly he was by my side and I was standing and he was ducking down to kiss me. Our lips met with a gentle thrill down the back of my neck. This wasn’t a fiery kiss, one that foretold clothes tearing and fuck mes. It was a soft kiss, a sweet kiss, one that brought with it promises of waking up next to each other every morning and him bringing me chicken soup when I was sick and me slowly stealing all of his hoodies because they smelled like him.

I pulled away and nestled my cheek into his shoulder. He leaned his head down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now? However high school that sounds.”

“It means I’m your boyfriend,” he said. “Does it mean you’re my girlfriend? Do you want me to write a note where you can check off the yes or no box?”

This next kiss melted me. Now came the clothes tearing, the sweeping of plastic plates off the table, the gasping as he bent over me and I bit his earlobe and he groaned into the curve of my neck.

Who needed pastries? This was better than any dessert.

21

TRue to Emerson Leigh’s word, Mr. Decker called me the next day as I woke up curled into Bennett’s side in his bed (we’d cleaned up Maisie’s boutique very well before relocating to his apartment). Every word grudging, my former boss told me, “Julie, I shouldn’t have let you go so quickly. I hope you’ll come back.” He paused afterward. Maybe he was waiting for my answer, or maybe he’d choked on his first ever apology and was writhing around on the floor clawing at his throat.

I told him I’d need a week to think it over. Because, as it turned out, there was a reason Alice had gone radio silent for so long. She called me a couple days into what I told Marcus would be a vacation and time to catch up on JulieZeeEatsNYC but that in reality turned into me lying on the floor obsessing over every possible path forward, my stomach churning with stress.

“Julie, I have news,” she said into my ear. Then she stopped, which I assumed meant she was giving me time to guess what the news was.

Obviously, my first thought was something job related, but I didn’t want to say that, just in case. I knew firsthand how everybody constantly bringing up job stuff could really hurt when you were unhappily unemployed. “You’re pregnant?”

“No, considering I haven’t had sex in a year, and I have not yet mastered cloning,” she said. “Which is unfortunate, because I think it might be fun to raise a small version of myself.”

“Will you give her the same bowl cut you had as a kid?”

I could hear the shudder through the wireless connection. “Don’t remind me.” Another pause. I hoped she didn’t want me to guess again. But then she said, “You know, I want to tell you in person. Dinner?”

And just like that, some of the day’s tension melted away into the floor, hopefully not leaking into the downstairs neighbor’s bathroom the way our shower had a few months ago. “I know just the place.”

We met a few hours later at Taiwan Garage, a Taiwanese place in Brooklyn I hadn’t realized I’d need to take the bus to get to. Because of the unexpected traveling conditions, I ran into the restaurant a few minutes late. Then ran back out, because Alice was waiting outside. She said, “They only seat you if the full party is here.”

“Sorry sorry sorry,” I said breathlessly. “The bus stopped for ten minutes because a woman with a stroller wouldn’t close it, and the driver refused to move until she did . . .” I trailed to a stop when I realized Alice wasn’t scowling at me. She was smiling. “You look . . . pleased with me? Even though I’m late?”

“Oh, I’m not pleased with you at all,” Alice said, but she was still smiling as we walked inside. The restaurant was expansive, the space formerly a garage; tribute was paid in the form of a few rusted mechanic’s tools hanging on the walls between what seemed to be black-and-white photos of the chef’s family or landmarks in Taiwan. The effect was fun and funky, though I had to admit I was relieved to be seated at one of the tables beneath a photo and not a tool. I didn’t particularly want to have to stress about that rusty wrench falling on me.

I glanced quickly through the menu for any changes from the menu on which I’d taken careful notes on my phone. A few little alterations, but nothing big. Then looked back up at Alice, who was still smiling. “Okay, you have to tell me what’s going on now,” I said.

“Let’s order first.”

“Then I’m just going to pretend you’re smiling at me for being late.” I tilted my head, tapping my temple. “I want you to keep smiling, so I guess I’ll just have to be late more often.”