“Tristan, there are things that you don’t know about me. Things that…”

Just as the words stuck in her throat, the waiter appeared, sliding their dinner onto the table. The sight and smell appealed to her starved senses and she forgot what she had wanted to say.

As much as Tristan wanted her to open up to him, this was not the place. He knew that Josie thought she could scare him away with her past, but she underestimated his dedication.

They ate in silence, though it wasn’t the uneasy kind. It was peaceful and amicable. The wine was flavorful and Josie never remembered tasting food so good. She wondered if the company had anything to do with it.

During dinner, Tristan tried to keep himself from staring. She was always beautiful, but tonight she was otherworldly. Even with the anxious energy, she was the most stunning creature he’d ever seen. Sometimes it still floored him that she was here, alive and in his life. He often became overwhelmed when holding her or kissing her, remembering how he’d once begged for such a gift.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if I’d never moved away?” Josie asked.

She’d thought about nothing else since she’d learned of their connection. She imagined a different life, where she could become someone her parents would have been proud of. She could have been on the honor roll and yearbook staff. She could have gone to college and studied art. She could have ruled the world with this man by her side.

“I’ve thought about it a lot since the day you left.”

“Tell me,” Josie requested, folding her napkin and laying it on the table.

She let her fingers trace over the ink on his skin, outlining the trunk and limbs just below his cuffed sleeve. Tristan smiled at the hundreds of memories surrounding the old oak.

“The night before you moved to New York, you came over for dinner. My mom made your favorite fudge peanut butter brownies for dessert. My parents tried to make us enjoy ourselves, but you were a mess and I was really angry. We spent the whole meal sulking.”

Tristan took a cleansing breath and finished his beer. Just the memory of losing her made his chest ache again.

“After dinner, we went to sit in our tree. You wore my favorite blue shirt and the jeans with holes in the knees. I remember pretending to play with the hanging threads just for an excuse to touch you. We sat in silence for a while, ignoring the time counting down. When it got late, your dad called to say he was coming to pick you up. My mom yelled for us to come inside, but you wouldn’t budge. You clung to me and begged me to stay up there with you. You figured if you didn’t come down, you’d be able to stay in Louisiana.”

“Sounds like my logic,” Josie said sarcastically.

“An hour later, after threats from your dad and a million promises between us, we climbed down together. That was the last time I saw you.”

Though Josie couldn’t recall the scene like Tristan could, it hurt her all the same. In a way, she felt lucky that she had none of those memories. She wasn’t sure if she could have survived all the old hurt and new hurt. It may have killed her long ago.

“Did I cry? I bet I was a crier.”

“No. You didn’t. You were so strong.”

As Tristan paid for dinner, Josie wondered where that strength had gotten her, half dead and with no memories.

They walked hand in hand through Seaport Village, pausing to window-shop, though neither one paid much attention to the items. Tristan focused on the way her tiny fingers wrapped around his, the click-clack rhythm of her shoes against the pavement, and their distorted reflection in the shop windows.

“What does this one represent?” Josie asked, tapping her finger over a watch face tattooed on the inside of his left wrist.

“My birth, the exact minute I joined the living.”

“What about this one?”

Josie reached up to the side of his neck, running her thumb along the two lines of script below his ear.

“‘Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt,’” he said. “Vonnegut’s protagonist in Slaughterhouse-Five coins the phrase regarding death. Sort of something to look forward to.”

Josie’s eyes searched his own, getting lost in his ability to make her understand such complicated notions.

“Come on,” he said lightly, tugging on her hand.

He dragged her into a hat shop, where they tried on hats and laughed at each other until their sides hurt. Tristan stuck an enormous beach hat onto Josie’s head and tugged on the floppy brim. She smiled and slid a fedora onto him. He pulled it down over one eye, and they stood in front of the large framed mirror.

“You look hot,” she said, staring at his reflection.

“Sold,” Tristan replied, winking at her.

Josie blushed and placed her hat back on the shelf while Tristan paid for his. She found it odd that despite all the deviant things she’d done, she’d never felt timid. Tristan could bring these alien feelings to the surface. He had a way of making her believe she was worthy of innocence.

When they stepped into Upstart Crow, a coffeehouse and bookstore, Josie could see how Tristan delighted in being surrounded by the written word. She just knew he could spend hours scouring every shelf for books. While she didn’t share his passion, she loved seeing him happy and in his element.

“Don’t worry, I’ll limit myself,” he said, placing a kiss on her cheek.

He pulled her down row after row of books. When something caught his attention, he would examine the cover as if studying a painting. Then he’d flip to the back and read whatever review or description was there. Last, he’d fan the pages a few times. Josie marveled at the ritual and smiled every time he handed her one to buy.

Thirty minutes and four books later, they shared a piece of cheesecake and an iced mocha in the coffeehouse.

Tristan persuaded Josie to ride the carousel with him, so they parked themselves on the bench surrounded by parading animals. The golden lights and mirrors reflected the couple, and Tristan couldn’t help but think about what a sight they were. As the ride began to move, he pulled her in closer with his arm around her shoulders.

“Did you know carousels were first used as combat training devices by the Turkish? There’s proof of their existence all the way back to 500 A.D.”

Josie smiled at his fact reciting, loving all the useless information.

“Really? Tell me more,” she teased.

Tristan rolled his eyes and placed a soft kiss below her ear. They watched as children bobbed up and down on their horses and tigers. The organ music lulled them into a state of ease as they spun, like two lovers rotating around their own axis.

When the ride was over, he led her to the water, where they stood beneath one of the lamps dotting the bay. One by one, the shop windows went dark. The day finished with Closed signs and locked doors. Tristan leaned against the rail, his back to the water, and pulled Josie in against him. He tilted his chin down and captured her lips. Josie moaned into his mouth as his hands slid down to her lower back. She could feel his racing pulse against her body, his warmth and heat surrounding her. She wanted more. She always wanted more.

Tristan spun them and held Josie against the rail, trapping her with his arms on each side. His body pressed into her back as she sighed and looked out over the water. The lights from Coronado shone from the island, bouncing off the water like rippling ribbons. The sky hosted a blanket of stars and the waxing moon shone just for them. Josie closed her eyes, wanting to memorize every bit of this moment. She just knew it would never get better than this.

Rob met Monica at her apartment. They’d made plans to stay in and watch a movie. She had no need for formal dates and grand gestures. They’d just skip over the usual dating rituals and get right to the heart of it, time alone and lots of it.