Soren had promised not to work, and Delia intended to hold him to it.
“You’re looking at the door,” she said.
He turned back from the apartment window. “I was looking at the weather.”
“The weather is above the door.”
He smiled and put down the mug he had been carrying for the last five minutes without drinking from it. Below them, the cinema was opening for an afternoon screening. His assistant had everything he needed, including Soren’s number, which he had possessed for considerably longer than this single afternoon. Still, Soren had checked the schedule twice since breakfast.
Delia crossed the room and took his hand.
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“Away from the window.”
She led him down the private stairs and out into the mild September air. The town had quieted since August, though there were still visitors near the water and a queue outside the bakery. Soren looked at the queue with interest. Delia kept walking.
“You’ve just eaten.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t look.”
“Look while moving.”
He laughed and lengthened his stride to catch up with her. She liked having to look slightly upward to see his face. She liked the hand that enclosed hers, the familiar warmth of it, and the way he now slowed without being asked when she stopped to look at something.
At the water, they found a bench with a clear view and a damp patch they avoided by sitting close. A few people were walking along the shore. Delia watched a woman persuade a reluctant dog around a shallow puddle, then fail when the dog sat down in it.
“Sensible,” Soren said.
“Wet.”
“Also that.”
She leaned against him. They had twelve days until their trip, three nights booked, work covered, and a list of things neither was allowed to forget because the other refused to buy replacements. Soren’s list included a charger. Hers included the shoes that did not hurt after an hour. The room confirmation remained on her phone, checked once and then left alone.
Next weekend they would be apart. Yasmin’s display and his private screening still occupied the dates they had marked. Delia had bought a frame as a gift for her friend and had resisted the urge to ask what time she should arrive more than twice. Soren had asked her to send a photograph of the work. She meant to.
“Did you tell your mother the trip was confirmed?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Did she approve?”
“She asked whether there was parking.”
“Is there?”
“There is.”
“Then we’re safe.”
Delia smiled. Her mother had also asked if she was happy, so abruptly that Delia had answered before she could turn the question into a report. Yes. Odette had nodded, then returned to the parking. Delia had liked her for it.
She stretched her legs, feeling the sun on her ankles. Soren’s keys lay on the bench beside his thigh. Her apartment key was among them now, attached on August twenty-fifth after they had installed the hooks by her door. He had used it twice that weekend, once to come back for the jacket he had forgotten to put on the new hook. She still intended to remind him of that at an inconvenient moment.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked.
“Your jacket.”
He groaned. “I knew that was coming.”
“It’s a very good hook.”
“I admire it every time.”
“From the chair where you leave your jacket.”
He turned toward her and kissed her, effectively preventing further argument. She let him. When he drew back, his smile was close enough that she could feel it before she properly saw it.
They stayed on the bench until the damp began to find them. Soren pocketed his keys, and they walked down toward the water instead of returning directly to town.
At the edge of the sand, Delia took off her shoes. Soren held them while she rolled up the legs of her pants. The water looked cold enough to discourage ambition. She stepped into the shallow wash and made a sound she had not intended to make.
“Warm?” he asked.
“Lovely. Come in.”
“Convincing.”
She took another step, then stood still while the water retreated around her ankles. The sand shifted beneath her feet. She watched the next small wave come toward her, clear at its edge, and let it reach her without moving away.
Soren remained where the sand was dry. She turned and held out a hand.
“You’re missing it.”
“I can see you perfectly.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He considered her for a moment, then set their shoes together above the wet sand and rolled up his own pants. When the water reached him, he made exactly the same sound she had.
Delia laughed. He pointed at her, accusing, then took her hand.
They stood side by side while a few waves came and went. Her toes had begun to go numb, but the sun was warm on her back. Soren’s shoulder brushed hers. She leaned into him, careful of the shifting sand, and felt his hand tighten in response.
“Worth it?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you when I can feel my feet.”
She splashed a little water with one foot. He looked at the dark spots on his rolled pants, then at her. She backed away before he could retaliate, laughing hard enough to lose her balance for a step. He did not chase her. He simply waited until the next wave reached them, then moved his foot just enough to send a thin sheet of water toward her shin.
“Accident,” he said.
She took his hand again and pulled him toward shore.
They sat on a low step while their feet dried, brushing sand away with their hands before putting on their shoes. Soren found a grain trapped beneath his heel and had to take one shoe off again. Delia waited, smiling at the top of his bent head.
Then they walked back through town. Delia stopped at a shop window containing a small display of old photographs. One showed the street before the cinema had its present sign. Soren came to stand beside her.
“That one’s been there for months.”
“I never noticed.”
“You were distracted.”
“By the quality of the films.”
“Obviously.”
She looked at the photograph a little longer. There were people at the edge of it, blurred by motion: someone carrying a bag, a child turning away from the camera. She wondered what they had been doing that day. Then Soren touched her elbow, and she turned back toward the street they were actually standing in.
The special screening began at two. It was an old monster film chosen for a single afternoon, separate from the discussion series, and Delia had refused to read anything about it beyond the premise. She wanted to be surprised by how badly the creature moved.
Soren claimed the effects were better than she expected.
“You’ve set a low bar,” she told him.
“They have character.”
“So does mold.”
He looked pleased by her skepticism. She suspected he knew something about the film he was deliberately withholding, and decided not to ask.
At the Lantern they joined two people waiting at the counter. Soren kept his hands in his pockets. His assistant glanced at him, then returned to selling the tickets in front of him. Delia could feel Soren trying not to notice a stack of programs that had been placed at a slight angle.
“Leave them,” she murmured.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
He exhaled a laugh. “All right.”
When it was their turn, Delia stepped forward.
“Two tickets, please.”
The assistant looked from her to Soren. Soren nodded toward the reader. Delia paid before either man could complicate matters. The assistant handed her two tickets and told them where the screening was, then looked embarrassed because there was only one auditorium and they both knew it well.
“Thank you,” Delia said gravely.
Soren waited until they were out of earshot to laugh.
“Don’t,” she said. “He was being professional.”
“I know. I like him.”
They chose two seats near the middle. Soren began to sit on the aisle side, then changed his mind and let her take it because she liked having room for her bag. She handed him his ticket. He turned it over, examining the back as if he had not bought thousands of them.
“A strange feeling?” she asked.
“A little.”
“Try to behave.”
He put his arm along the back of her seat, then stopped before it reached her shoulders. “All right?”
She moved closer in answer. He settled his arm around her. A few more people came in, including a man carrying an enormous coat despite the mild weather. The screen brightened. Soren looked toward the projection window once, then firmly forward.
The first ten minutes were better than Delia expected. A scientist made a prediction nobody believed; a sensible woman asked a question nobody answered; several people went toward a body of water with insufficient equipment. Delia leaned toward Soren.
“They’re all going to deserve it.”
He nodded without taking his eyes from the screen.
The creature appeared at exactly the moment she had begun to trust the film. It rose from the water with such evident difficulty that someone behind them laughed before Delia could. One of its arms bent in a direction no arm, even a fictional one, ought to choose.
She turned toward Soren, outraged with pleasure.
“You knew.”
His shoulders were shaking. “I did.”
“You said the effects were good.”
“I said better than you expected.”
She covered her mouth because the creature was now attempting to climb a wall. Soren laughed silently beside her, tears at the corners of his eyes. She had seen him serious, defensive, tired, kind, and unexpectedly stubborn. This version still undid her: helpless with laughter, trying not to disturb a room in his own cinema.
She took his hand and held it tightly until they both recovered.
By the final scene, the sensible woman had acquired a weapon nobody had thought to mention earlier. Delia objected under her breath. Soren whispered that she would object to anything that convenient, and she told him to pay attention because the creature had apparently recovered the use of its arm.
The ending was ridiculous. She loved most of it and intended to argue about the rest.
As the credits began, Soren turned toward her. “Well?”
She opened her mouth, then saw the expression on his face: hopeful, amused, already preparing his defense. She thought of the road home tomorrow, the work waiting Monday, the room they would share in twelve days. For now the credits were still moving and his hand was warm in hers.
“Come closer,” she said.
He leaned across the narrow space between their seats. Delia caught the front of his shirt, smiling, and kissed him before the lights came up.