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“Well he should be upset,” Liz says. “He blew up their relationship. But I guess it’s hard to not get caught up in the money and fame.”
“That’s not the story he told me,” I say.
“Well of course he’s not going to phrase it like that!”
“It was the exact opposite. Marie is the one who got way too into tennis!”
“Like Bill isn’t a huge golfer?”
We stare at each other.
“Bill wormed his way out of their Comic Con tradition,” Liz accuses.
“Marie was embarrassed to be seen with him there! She thinks it’s immature,” I shoot back.
“Are you crazy? Marie has a Kindle with a library full of the corniest sci-fi novels this side of a Star Trek convention. She’s just as into all that stuff as she ever was. Bill is the one who changed.”
“Bill talks about Night of the Comet like it’s his child,” I say. “Remember him talking about it at the welcome dinner? He loves all those cheesy movies. He still has the ticket from the last Comic Con they were supposed to go to in his wallet.”
Liz’s face pales. “Marie has the shirt for the costume she was going to wear,” she whispers.
The realization descends on both of us at the same time.
“Could it really just be a misunderstanding?” Liz asks in wonder.
“They’re both trying to be what they think the other wants,” I say.
We sit, stunned, side-by-side. Then, slowly but with a steadily increasing intensity, happiness begins to flood through my body. An irrepressible grin spreads across my face.
“He’s going to be thrilled!” I say, jumping to my feet.
Liz joins me in a flash. “She’s going to pass out!”
“We have to tell them right now,” I say, heading toward the door.
I feel lightheaded. I’m happy for the Alencars, of course, but there’s a deeper significance here, sending a wrecking ball through all my fears. All looked hopeless for the Alencars, but here, at the twelfth hour, there’s a flicker of promise. If things can work out for them, then what makes Liz and I any different?
I’m in the hallway when I realize Liz is no longer by my side. She’s still standing in the middle of the room, confliction suddenly etched across her beautiful features.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Come on. We can probably still catch Bill in the garage.”
“Come back,” Liz says quietly. “We need to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” I ask. I go back in the room, take her hands and squeeze them in mine. Why is she upset? Can’t she see how amazing this is? All we need to do to work is be honest with each other, to not let misunderstandings stagnate. Once we talk to Bill and Marie, I’m ready to have the hard conversations.
But then Liz says something that doesn’t even compute with my brain at first. Her mouth moves and she says words, but I stare at her stupidly.
“What?” I ask.
Liz bites her lip, and then says again, “What about Marie’s account?”
I blink. I drop her hands. A part of me understands, but I don’t want to accept it. Not yet, not when we’re so close.
“What about it?” I ask slowly. Maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe she’s not about to say what I think she’s about to say.
All hope vanishes when she says, “If they get back together, we’re going to lose the account.”
I take a step back, as if my sudden revulsion actually pushes us apart. She can’t be serious.
