carbonara, with a sauce of white wine, cream, and three entire eggs, the whole of it covered in a snowy layer of grated Pecorino-Romano and Parmesan cheese and sprinkled with crisp shards of bacon.
Chris smiled when he saw her. “Zoë,” he said quietly, and stepped forward.
An awkward moment followed as they moved toward each other in the beginnings of a hug, and ended up clasping hands instead. Zoë was inwardly surprised by how good it was to see him again, and how much she had missed him.
“You look wonderful,” he said.
“So do you.” But she saw with concern that there was a weathering of sadness around his hazel-green eyes, and lines of tension that had been carved too deep and too fast.
Reaching into the pocket of his impeccably tailored blazer, Chris brought out a small object in a flannel pouch. “I found this behind the dresser the other day,” he said, handing it to her. ”Remember how hard we looked for it?”
“My goodness,” Zoë said as she saw the brooch inside the pouch. It had always been one of the favorites in her collection, a vintage silver and enameled teapot embedded with amethysts. “I thought I’d never see it again.”
“I wanted to return it to you in person,” Chris said. “I knew how much it meant to you.”
“Thank you.” She gave him an unguarded smile. “Are you staying on the island for the weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?” she brought herself to ask. They were both trying hard to be casual, to mask the awkward edges and corners of a conversation between two people who were trying to reconnect.
Chris nodded. “I needed to get away and do some thinking. I’m renting a waterfront house for a couple of nights. Hoping to see some orcas, maybe do some kayaking.” His gaze flicked around the kitchen, taking in the pans that still needed to be cleaned, the remains of breakfast. “I came at a bad time. You’re in the middle of stuff—”
“No, it’s fine. Do you want to stay for a few minutes and have some coffee?”
“If you’ll have some with me.”
Zoë motioned for him to sit at the table. She went to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Rather than take a chair, Chris leaned back against the sturdy table and watched her.
“Where is the house you’re renting?” Zoë asked, measuring coffee into a filter basket.
“It’s at Lonesome Cove.” Chris paused before adding, “Apropos name, in my current situation.”
“Oh, dear.” Zoë went to fill the coffeepot at the sink. “Trouble with … your partner?”
“I’ll spare you the details. But a lot has been running through my mind. Memories and thoughts … and the thing I keep running into, again and again, is that I never really apologized for what I did to you. I handled everything the wrong way. I’m so sorry for that. I’m—” He closed his mouth and set his jaw, but a muscle in his cheek twitched like an overstretched rubber band.
Carefully Zoë brought the pot of water to the coffee machine and poured it in. “But you did,” she said. “You apologized more than once. And maybe you could have handled it better, but I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you. I was so focused on my own hurt feelings that I didn’t think about how scary it would be for you to come out. How tough it would be to face everyone’s reactions. I forgave you a long time ago, Chris.”
“I haven’t forgiven myself,” Chris said, clearing his throat roughly. “I didn’t take responsibility. I told you it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want to think about what I was putting you through. For a while I sort of became a teenager again, going through all the phases I missed during adolescence. I’m so sorry, Zoë.”
At a loss for words, Zoë started the coffeemaker and turned to face him. Her hands smoothed repeatedly over the bib front of her white chef’s apron. “It’s okay,” she eventually said. “It’s really okay. I’m fine. But I’m worried about you. Why do you seem so unhappy?
Chris smiled when he saw her. “Zoë,” he said quietly, and stepped forward.
An awkward moment followed as they moved toward each other in the beginnings of a hug, and ended up clasping hands instead. Zoë was inwardly surprised by how good it was to see him again, and how much she had missed him.
“You look wonderful,” he said.
“So do you.” But she saw with concern that there was a weathering of sadness around his hazel-green eyes, and lines of tension that had been carved too deep and too fast.
Reaching into the pocket of his impeccably tailored blazer, Chris brought out a small object in a flannel pouch. “I found this behind the dresser the other day,” he said, handing it to her. ”Remember how hard we looked for it?”
“My goodness,” Zoë said as she saw the brooch inside the pouch. It had always been one of the favorites in her collection, a vintage silver and enameled teapot embedded with amethysts. “I thought I’d never see it again.”
“I wanted to return it to you in person,” Chris said. “I knew how much it meant to you.”
“Thank you.” She gave him an unguarded smile. “Are you staying on the island for the weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?” she brought herself to ask. They were both trying hard to be casual, to mask the awkward edges and corners of a conversation between two people who were trying to reconnect.
Chris nodded. “I needed to get away and do some thinking. I’m renting a waterfront house for a couple of nights. Hoping to see some orcas, maybe do some kayaking.” His gaze flicked around the kitchen, taking in the pans that still needed to be cleaned, the remains of breakfast. “I came at a bad time. You’re in the middle of stuff—”
“No, it’s fine. Do you want to stay for a few minutes and have some coffee?”
“If you’ll have some with me.”
Zoë motioned for him to sit at the table. She went to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Rather than take a chair, Chris leaned back against the sturdy table and watched her.
“Where is the house you’re renting?” Zoë asked, measuring coffee into a filter basket.
“It’s at Lonesome Cove.” Chris paused before adding, “Apropos name, in my current situation.”
“Oh, dear.” Zoë went to fill the coffeepot at the sink. “Trouble with … your partner?”
“I’ll spare you the details. But a lot has been running through my mind. Memories and thoughts … and the thing I keep running into, again and again, is that I never really apologized for what I did to you. I handled everything the wrong way. I’m so sorry for that. I’m—” He closed his mouth and set his jaw, but a muscle in his cheek twitched like an overstretched rubber band.
Carefully Zoë brought the pot of water to the coffee machine and poured it in. “But you did,” she said. “You apologized more than once. And maybe you could have handled it better, but I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for you. I was so focused on my own hurt feelings that I didn’t think about how scary it would be for you to come out. How tough it would be to face everyone’s reactions. I forgave you a long time ago, Chris.”
“I haven’t forgiven myself,” Chris said, clearing his throat roughly. “I didn’t take responsibility. I told you it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want to think about what I was putting you through. For a while I sort of became a teenager again, going through all the phases I missed during adolescence. I’m so sorry, Zoë.”
At a loss for words, Zoë started the coffeemaker and turned to face him. Her hands smoothed repeatedly over the bib front of her white chef’s apron. “It’s okay,” she eventually said. “It’s really okay. I’m fine. But I’m worried about you. Why do you seem so unhappy?
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