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“Doesn’t he have that YouTube channel where he plays drums with kids?”
“Huh, I don’t know. Maybe,” Mira said, playing it off that she hadn’t just watched twenty of those videos. Pulling into the garage, she killed the engine, faced her son, and said, “I met him this morning, and now he’s going to be my date to the wedding.”
Nodding once, Ian said, “Nice.”
It was as close to encouraging as teenage Ian ever got, and Mira decided to take it and run.
* * *
“What are you watching?”her mom asked, emerging from her bedroom to sit beside Ian on the couch. “Adventure Time?”
“Yep,” Ian said.
“Can I watch with you?”
“Sure.”
While Ian made room on their small couch for her mom, Mira ground her teeth together. Ian wasn’t a kid anymore. He needed his own space, but space in their three-bedroom apartment above the bakery was in short supply, especially since her mom had moved back in. But that was one of many problems for tomorrow Mira, because today Mira’s phone buzzed.
Nearly spilling the contents of her purse all over the floor trying to get at it, she said, “I’ll be in my room for a few minutes if you need me for anything.” Taking advantage of the fact that neither Ian nor her mom paid her a lick of attention, she snuck into her room, tossed her purse on her dresser—after finally locating her phone in the bottomless chasm of gum and receipts and hair thingies—and crawled into her bay window.
It was an out of state number. It had to be him. And she needed to answer, preferably before he went to voicemail.Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.
“Hello?” she said, asking it like it was a question, like she’d just learned the word, like she’d never answered a phone before and had no idea what would happen next. Would it explode? Melt through her fingers? Morph into a bird and fly away?
“Mira?”
“Speaking.”Speaking?She never saidspeaking.
“It’s Cole.”
“Oh. Hi, Cole.”
“Is this still a good time?”
“It’s… Yes, it’s a fine time. Thank you.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” he said with a small laugh, and then—before she died of embarrassment—he admitted, “I’ve been nervous about making this call all afternoon.”
“I’ve been nervous about answering it.” When he didn’t respond, she screwed her eyes shut.And the Oscar for most awkward woman in the northern hemisphere goes to…
“Glazed and Confused has fantastic vibes. It’s classic, but also very cool. How long have you owned it?”
It was a conversational bone; one she was more than happy to fetch. “Thank you,” she said, again, then winced at the unbearable awkwardness. Muting the call, she shook out her hands, rolled her neck, and pulled herself together. She was a grown woman. She’d talked to men before, she was sure. Many times, in fact. She could talk to this one too. “My grandfather bought the bakery back in the fifties. Then he passed it to my mom. And a few years ago, she passed it down to me.”
“Generations of ownership. I love that.”
Her lips, responding to his genuine enthusiasm, curved. “We all live above it now. Me, my mom, and my son, Ian.”
“How old is your kid?” He sounded relaxed, like he was lying on his bed with a hand behind his head, maybe with his feet crossed at his ankles.
“He’s fourteen.”
“Oof.” He laughed. “Tough age. I have a daughter, Rebecca—we call her Becks. She’s twenty-six now.”
“I know.”
“You…know?”
