The café had two entrances. Delia stood inside the wrong one for several minutes before seeing Soren through the window at the other end, looking toward the car park.
She went outside and walked around the building. He turned when she called his name. For a moment neither of them moved closer.
“I was inside,” she said.
“I thought I’d wait out here.”
“There’s another door.”
“Right.”
It was almost funny. She could feel the shape of the joke without being able to reach it. He looked tired, though perhaps she was looking for signs that the week had been difficult for him too.
“Shall we?” he asked.
They went in together. A server led them to a table by the wall, gave them menus, and asked whether they wanted drinks. The ordinary choices were a relief until they had been made. Then the menus lay between them and there was nothing left to do but begin.
Soren folded his hands, unfolded them, and said, “I should have come yesterday.”
Delia looked at him. She had prepared for an explanation first. She had several answers ready for it. None was useful now.
“Yes,” she said.
He nodded. “I thought I was being careful.”
“You were being careful with something that wasn’t yours to decide.”
He looked down. She gripped the edge of the menu, creasing it beneath her thumb.
“I wanted to see you,” she said. “I told you that. And you kept telling me why I shouldn’t.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think you did then.”
“No. I didn’t.”
The server brought their drinks. Delia moved a menu to make room. Soren thanked her, waited until she was gone, then leaned forward.
“When you showed me that job, I panicked a bit.”
“Why?”
“Because I liked the idea of you being nearby. Before I thought about anything else. Then I saw what it paid, and what it was, and I felt—” He stopped. “I didn’t like myself very much.”
She watched him struggle with the last part. It was more useful than the assurance he had given her on Tuesday, that he wanted to do the decent thing.
“You could have told me that.”
“Yes.”
“I liked the idea of being nearby too. That was why I looked.”
“I know.”
“But I wasn’t handing you a decision to sign.”
He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the menu. “I treated it like one.”
She took a drink. The coffee was hotter than she expected, and she set it down carefully. Her hands had been cold in the car; now they felt too warm.
“I deleted the listing,” she said.
He looked up quickly. “You don’t have to—”
“Let me finish.”
He closed his mouth.
“I deleted it because I don’t want the job. I want the work I’m trying to do now. That doesn’t mean I want to spend every spare day on the road.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then we need to talk about what we can actually do. Not what you can stop me doing.”
He nodded. “All right.”
She turned her cup by the handle. There was something else she needed to say, and she disliked it more than anything she had prepared in the car.
“Part of me wanted there to be an easy answer,” she said.
He waited.
“The job was there. The distance was the problem. I could see one thing I might do about it.”
“Even though you didn’t want the job.”
“I wanted the problem gone.” She looked at him. “That’s not quite the same.”
“No.”
“I know it was early. I knew that while I was looking. But waiting to find out whether something will work is horrible.”
He leaned back, considering. She wished he would say something foolish enough to argue with. The admission left her feeling less protected than anger had.
“I can’t promise it will be easy,” he said.
“I haven’t asked you to.”
“I know. I’m trying to say something useful.”
She gave a small, reluctant laugh. “You’re doing badly.”
“I noticed.”
The laugh eased enough of the tension that she could continue. “I want to be able to mention something unfinished. A thought I haven’t decided on. If every idea turns into an emergency, I’ll stop telling you until I’ve made up my mind.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t want that.”
“Neither do I.”
He moved the sugar container away from the edge of the table, where somebody had left it balanced badly. It was such a small, automatic act that she felt a sudden tenderness she wasn’t ready for. She had missed watching him do things. That was part of why she was here, though it was harder to say than the complaint.
She opened the menu, then shut it again. She wasn’t hungry yet. Around them, people were ordering lunch, clearing tables, calling to children. A man at the counter had a laugh that cut through every other sound. She wanted to be outside, where she could look away without finding another person’s meal.
“Can we walk after this?”
“Of course.”
They paid for the drinks and went to the park across the road. The path circled a patch of grass and a small playground. It was not a particularly beautiful place. There were weeds along the fence and a bin that needed emptying. Delia was glad she had not chosen somewhere lovely enough to do part of the work for them.
They walked beside each other with a little space between their arms. At the first bend, Soren said, “I assumed you were the person who would have to change things.”
She looked at him.
“I didn’t say it that way. But I kept thinking about the cinema, and the apartment, and how I couldn’t leave. As if your work was the loose part.”
“It isn’t.”
“I know.”
“You know I like it. That’s not always the same as treating it like work.”
He nodded slowly. A child on a scooter came toward them, and they stepped aside. The interruption gave her time to decide whether she wanted to say more. She did.
“The proposal is nearly ready. If they approve it, there’ll be an evening in July. I don’t know yet if anybody will come. I don’t know whether I’ll be good at it. But I want to find out.”
“You should.”
She turned her head sharply. He caught the look and stopped.
“Sorry. I mean I want to hear about it. I’m doing it again.”
She almost smiled. “A little.”
They walked on. Her anger had become less solid, which did not mean it had gone. She could still see the square on her calendar where she had written his name. Yesterday she had gone to the library, bought groceries, and spent an hour sitting in a park near her apartment. It had been an acceptable day. It hadn’t been the day they had planned.
“If you need time,” she said, “tell me you need it. Don’t give it to me as a present.”
He made a short sound, halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “All right.”
“And I won’t pretend a six-hour drive is nothing just because I want to see you.”
“That would help.”
She looked at him. “Don’t sound too relieved. You’ll have to drive too.”
“I know. June twenty-third?”
She stopped walking. “You looked at your calendar.”
“Yes.”
“Before you came?”
“Yes. But I’m asking.”
She took out her phone. The date was free outside a small work obligation on Friday. Saturday could be theirs. She did not write his name immediately.
“Can you arrange the cinema?”
“I can ask my assistant to cover the evening. I checked whether the date was possible. I haven’t promised them anything on your behalf.”
“Good.”
“I’d stay overnight. If you still want me to.”
She looked up from the calendar. He was watching her without trying to make the question lighter. She wanted him in her apartment. She wanted the second toothbrush, the irritating shoes by the door, the morning when she could show him where the bowls were. She did not want any of it enough to pretend this week had not happened.
“I do,” she said. “And I need you to keep the plan unless there’s an actual reason you can’t.”
“There might be an actual reason sometimes.”
“I know. Not every problem is a broken promise.”
“I can do that.”
She put the date into the calendar. He took out his own phone and did the same.
They sat on a bench facing the grass. Soren stretched his legs out, then drew them back when a child ran past. Delia watched a woman trying to persuade a small dog to leave a stick behind. The dog had firm views.
“How often?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Every other weekend? With something shorter when we can?”
She considered it. “Sometimes. I don’t want every free weekend booked before we know what else is happening.”
“Neither do I.”
“And the shorter visit still means the same drive.”
“Right.” He rubbed his beard. “Then we make the overnight visits count. And we don’t assume you’re coming here whenever I’ve got a gap.”
“Or that you’re coming to me whenever I’m free.”
He nodded and waited. She looked at the space between their hands on the bench.
“Can we try it,” she said, “without deciding now whether it works forever?”
“Yes.”
“And if it doesn’t work, we say so. We look at other options. Real ones.”
“Including mine.”
She nodded. “Including yours.”
He turned toward her. “I’m sorry, Delia. For canceling. I wanted to avoid getting it wrong so badly that I didn’t listen to you.”
She looked at his hands. He was holding them together, one thumb caught under the other. She reached over and touched his wrist.
“I missed you,” she said.
His face changed. “I missed you too.”
He did not lean in until she moved closer. The kiss was brief at first, uncertain in a way their kisses had not been last weekend. Then she put her hand against his cheek and kissed him again. His arm came around her shoulders. A shout from the playground made them break apart, both looking up as if they had been caught doing something forbidden.
Her hair had caught on the button of his jacket. She tried to pull away and winced. He held still while she freed it, one curl at a time.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Stop moving your chin.”
He raised it, which made the angle worse. She put a hand against his chest and told him to stay exactly where he was. When the last strand came free, she smoothed the curl back behind her ear. He was looking at her with an expression she hadn’t seen all day, open and almost disbelieving.
“What?”
“I’m glad you came.”
She rested her hand on his jacket for another second. “So am I.”
The child was shouting about the slide. No one was looking at them.
Delia laughed. Soren rested his forehead briefly against hers, then sat back.
“Are you hungry now?” he asked.
“Very.”
They returned to the café through the other entrance. This time they chose a table near the window. The server recognized them and asked whether they’d come back for lunch. Delia said yes, rather too eagerly, and Soren smiled at her over the menu.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. I’m hungry too.”
They ordered different things. When the food arrived, his looked better, and he caught her looking at it.
“Would you like some?”
“I might regret my decision.”
“That was quick.”
She stole a small piece from the edge of his plate with permission, tasted it, and decided she preferred her own after all. He looked injured. She told him she was allowed to change her mind after gathering evidence.
“Apparently,” he said, moving his plate a little farther away.
The teasing felt tentative, like putting weight on something that had only just been repaired. She was glad when it held.
Delia asked about the film series, and he told her which weekend he hoped to begin. He was still deciding how to handle the discussion afterward. He didn’t want people to feel trapped if they only wanted to watch the film. She suggested telling them exactly when the discussion would start and leaving a pause in which anyone could go.
“You’d leave?” he asked.
“If I hated the film, possibly.”
“That’s when I want you to stay.”
“Then you’d better choose something I hate.”
He grinned. “A challenge.”
He asked about her proposal, and she described the change that had opened it to people who were new to Bellweather. She told him about the colleague who had noticed the shoes in a photograph before anything else. He asked whether people would be allowed to bring photographs of their own. She said perhaps later, if the first evening worked. The word later no longer required a complete plan attached to it.
When they finished, she reached for the bill. He said he’d pay; she said they could split it. He nodded and passed it over so she could see the total. It was an unremarkable exchange, and she was pleased to have one.
When they left, their cars stood at opposite ends of the small car park. Soren walked her to hers. She put her bag on the passenger seat, then turned back. He was close enough to kiss again, so she did.
“Twenty-third,” he said.
“I’ll send you something I’d like us to do.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
She watched him walk to his station wagon. He lifted a hand before getting in. Delia waited until he had backed out, then started her own car. The radio came on too loudly, and she lowered it before pulling away. At the exit she checked the directions once, turned off the screen, and put the phone on the empty passenger seat. She knew the road from here. The afternoon light lay across the fields as she turned toward Bellweather.