Page 79 of Gave Proof Through the Night

“That’s a good one. Dear. I can be your dear.”

“So when I introduce you, I’d say, this is Erica. My dear.” He pauses, delighted with himself. “A female deer.” Then he catches himself, wincing. “Sorry. I watched way too much The Sound of Music growing up. My nanny loved it.”

“How do you say it in Spanish?”

“Querida.” He tilts his head. “But that one reads more like something you’d call a daughter.”

I let that sit for a beat, and somewhere underneath the joke a small, quiet, unhelpful thought surfaces. Girlfriend. His girlfriend. Nobody is ever going to measure up to this again, and you know it, and you’re going to end up alone with a lot of cats who don’t even like you very much.

I just shrug. “You’re right. We don’t have to put a label on it.”

We’re a few steps down the hall when a voice cuts through the corridor behind us.

“There he is. Primo!”

Two men are already crossing toward us. Both have Jeremiah’s same dark, easy coloring, but that’s where the resemblance splits: one’s built lean and fit, the other looks like he splits firewood for a hobby. Jeremiah’s whole face breaks open with surprise and he pulls each of them in for a quick bro hug.

“No way.” Jeremiah holds them both at arm’s length, grinning like he still doesn’t believe it. “What are you two doing here?”

He turns, an arm sliding around my waist. “This is Erica.”

No label. No My Sharona. No Dear, a female dear. It’s better this way.

“Erica, these are my cousins. Nacho and Dante.”

Dante is the one built like a lumberjack. I shake both men’s hands. Very demure.

“Wow.” Jeremiah shakes his head. “So good to see you guys.”

“Tickets for this thing were harder to get than the FIFA World Cup,” Dante says.

“I could’ve gotten you tickets.”

“Nah. We didn’t get too much of a nosebleed.“

“How’s Olive?”

“Due any day now.” Nacho says it with the pride only an expectant father could. I suppose this Olive person is his wife. Hmm. I think I’ll order nachos with olives at the restaurant.

“She wanted to come but couldn’t fly. I’m here one night, tops. I didn’t want to leave her too long.”

“Erica and I were just about to go eat,” Jeremiah says.

“We plan on silently judging the salsa,” I say.

“Yes!” Nacho throws his fist in the air, not unlike Toddler Beer Man. Sans beer. “Judging salsa is my favorite pastime.”

“Oh no. Here we go.” Dante’s already shaking his head. “He doesn’t stop at the salsa. He judges the whole restaurant. Then he makes fun of everything.”

“Nacho’s a chef,” Jeremiah explains. “He owns eight restaurants.”

“Nice!”

“He’s insufferable at restaurants,” Dante says, grinning like it’s the best thing about him.

“If you can’t be insufferable at restaurants, what’s the point of living? I always say.”

Nacho points at me like I’ve just confirmed something he already suspected. “She’s a keeper.”