Page 45

Hmm.

I will not judge.

Who am I to judge?

“It wasn’t until recently, after an incident when I missed my uncle’s funeral for what ultimately was a”—he clears his throat—“Costa Rican hot spring destination weekend, and more specifically, an ill-timed received video call from my mother just before the funeral—”

“What, were you in a massage session in a kimono?”

“Wetsuit. On a boat. About to go diving.”

I wince.

“Anyway, she had some choice words. And it became blaringly apparent I’d misstepped. That, even deeper, I’m too invested in my own life and not invested enough in the lives of others.”

“Caribbean volcanoes are less impressive than Maple Hills?”

“Caribbean volcanoes are less impressive than my niece’s face covered in cereal, yes,” he says quite seriously. “Let’s just say I had a hard talk with the girlfriend, and she and I were not on the same page. So I decided to move on alone.”

“Oh. Well, good for you.” I’m not sure what to say. That was a lot of honesty. “And I’m sorry. But it sounds like you’re on the right track.”

“I’m trying.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I seem to have the opposite problem.”

His eyes twinkle. “What? Being too nice? How villainous.”

“Villainous to myself, at least.”

He concedes my point with a tilt of his head. “You have a hard time saying no to things?”

I nod.

“Yeah, well, I have a hard time saying yes. So we’re both working on things, I guess. My default word was no to anything I even slightly didn’t want to do, and unfortunately, as we’ve discussed, my capacity to be unconcerned with other people’s opinions was also my downfall. But I’m learning that saying yes is often the simplest way to love someone well.” He pauses, then adds for my credit, “Unless you are Chloe Hollis, who evidently has no problem being exceedingly kind and considerate.”

I grin.

Somebody walks down the aisle, and we stand awkwardly in silence while they pass. Once the shopper’s gone, we resume, but the moment is changing.

“Anyway,” he says, sighing, “I’m on a new path. So”—he motions to the doll aisle around us—“here we are.”

“Here we are indeed,” I say.

“Choosing to think like a child.”

“Which is always fun, if you ask me.”

“I don’t know that much about kids.”

“Besides the fact that you were once one yourself,” I counter.

A faint smile tugs at his lips. “You never met me as a kid.”

I laugh, giving a head-to-toe once-over of the man who didn’t abandon the pomade or oxford collar here on day two. “I can imagine. Well, we’re going for the glittery, gleeful Christmas morning moment here. Your goal being a squeal from the girls. Maybe a hug.”

“I want to find something so great it makes Joanne jealous.” And there it is. A little mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“How very brotherly of you. Big brother?” I ask.