Page 28 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

“I’m sorry,” I said with a laugh.

“Maybe the next time I’m in Montreal, we’ll go together,” he said.

“Maybe?”

“We might want to try a new restaurant next time.”

“Oh,” I said. “Good.”

“There will be a next time, Enzo,” he said, his foot stretching under the table to rub my calf. “And a next time. And a next.”

“How have you been?” I asked, mostly to keep myself from becoming overwhelmed with joy.

“Probably the same,” he said as he continued to rub my calf with his foot. “Lonely. I work a lot. I’ve been skipping the gym a bit, so I need to rectify that. Mom and Dad were here two weeks ago to visit. I think I told you?”

I nodded.

“They’re doing well,” he said. “Dad’s loving retirement and Mom’s getting used to having him around all the time, but I guess that’s forty-five years of marriage, right?”

My eyes grew wide. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. His eyes seemed glazed over “Imagine finding someone you’d want to spend that much of your life with, right?”

“Or…someone you can’t wait to spend forty-five years of your life with?”

“Yeah,” he said in the same dreamy voice.

Silence pervaded for a few moments, then Peter shook his head clear of thoughts.

“Every time I found a letter from you in the mailbox it made my day,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I rush home every day to see if I have a letter from you. The texts and phone calls and emails are great, but holding one of your letters in my hands is like having you with me.”

My cheeks felt warm, but I refused to look down or try to hide it from Peter.

“I’ve probably read every one of them at least fifty times,” he said. “Your letters are poetic.”

“I get inside my own head,” I said as an excuse, “and forget that I am actually writing a letter to another person.”

“I love them.”

“I love writing them to you.”

“They feel like the truth.”

I shrugged. “I suppose they are.”

We both laughed.

“I mean—”

“I know what you meant,” I said.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” I teased.

Peter sighed and sat back, pulling his foot away from my calf, which I immediately missed.

“It’s after midnight,” he said. “If we want to be out of bed at a reasonable hour in the morning so we can do something exciting on your third day here, we probably need to sleep soon.”