Andre smiled.
Camille opened her laptop.
Neither of them touched their computers.
After ten minutes, she said, “Why didn’t you ever call me?”
Andre’s smile disappeared.
“After college.”
“I know what you mean.”
“You just vanished.”
“You got engaged.”
“So?”
Andre stared at her.
“So?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly was I supposed to do?”
“Call.”
“And say what?”
Camille’s expression changed.
“I don’t know.”
Andre leaned back.
“You were marrying someone.”
“We were friends.”
“Were we?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Andre looked toward the window.
“It means I couldn’t be your friend.”
Silence.
Camille slowly set down her coffee.
“Why?”
Andre laughed quietly.
“Seriously?”
“I’m asking.”
“Because I was in love with you.”
There.
Ten years late.
Not exactly the dramatic confession he had once imagined.
Camille went completely still.
Andre looked at her.
“You didn’t know?”
She swallowed.
“No.”
“I thought everybody knew.”
“I didn’t.”
“Apparently I was subtler than I thought.”
Camille looked away.
Andre saw tears gathering.
That surprised him.
“Camille.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“I need a minute.”
Andre waited.
She breathed slowly.
Then looked at him.
“I was in love with you too.”
Andre forgot the room.
The coffee shop disappeared.
The tourists vanished.
Everything narrowed to her face.
“What?”
“I loved you.”
Her voice barely moved.
“Since sophomore year.”
Andre stared.
“Then why did you marry Grant?”
Camille closed her eyes.
“My mother.”
Andre remembered her.
Strong.
Elegant.
Always sick toward the end of college, though Camille rarely talked about it.
“What about her?”
“Pancreatic cancer.”
Andre’s stomach dropped.
“She called me that night.”
The night.
Their last night working together.
The night he almost told her.
“She told me doctors had given her months.”
Camille’s hands tightened around the coffee cup.
“Grant’s family knew ours.”
“He had money.”
“Connections.”
“Stability.”
“My mother was terrified she would die and leave me alone.”
Andre listened.
“She wanted to see me settled before she died.”
“So you said yes.”
Camille nodded.
“I convinced myself love was something you could build afterward.”
“Did you?”
She looked directly at him.
“No.”
Andre did not know whether to be angry.
At her.
At himself.
At time.
At a woman who had been dying and afraid.
Camille stood abruptly.
“I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Why?”
“Because it changes things.”
“They were already changed.”
She grabbed her bag.
“Andre.”
“Camille.”
“I can’t do this today.”
She left.
Andre sat there for another twenty minutes.
His coffee went cold.
His calculations stayed unfinished.
He had spent ten years mourning something he had believed never existed.
Apparently it had existed on both sides.
Saturday was Lily’s soccer game.
Andre stood along the sideline wearing three layers and regretting all of them because the Colorado sun somehow made twenty-eight degrees feel warm. Lily was playing defense, which mostly involved staring at clouds until the ball approached and then reacting with genuine surprise. Andre loved watching her anyway.
“She moves like you.”
Andre turned.
Camille stood beside him.
Jeans.
Puffer coat.
Dark sunglasses.
Andre stared.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was driving past.”
“The field is nowhere near your house.”
Camille removed the sunglasses.
“I took a very long route.”
Andre smiled.
“That’s less convincing.”
“I know.”
They watched.
Lily tripped over the ball.
Got up.
Then kicked it toward the wrong goal.
Andre covered his face.
Camille laughed.
“Definitely your daughter.”
“Please leave.”
She stayed.
After the game, Lily ran toward them covered in grass and entirely convinced she had played brilliantly.
“Dad! Did you see me?”
“I saw everything.”
“I almost scored.”
“You almost scored for the other team.”
“Still counts.”
Then Lily noticed Camille.
“Who are you?”
Andre opened his mouth.
Camille crouched slightly.
“I’m Camille.”
“You live across the street.”
“I do.”
“You have the giant house.”
Camille smiled.
“I suppose.”
Lily looked at Andre.
“Can Camille get burgers with us?”
Andre’s brain stopped.
Camille looked at him.
“I don’t want to interfere.”
“You’re not.”
Lily answered first.
“Good.”
That was apparently settled.
They went to a diner on Main Street.
Lily ordered a cheeseburger, fries, and chocolate milk.
Andre ordered coffee.
Camille ordered soup, then spent most of the meal listening to Lily explain why a boy named Noah was no longer invited to her birthday because he had called her volcano science project “fake lava.”
Camille treated every detail as important.
Andre noticed.
“Do you have kids?”
Lily asked.
Camille paused.
“No.”
“Did you want kids?”
“Lily.”
Andre warned.
“What?”
Camille shook her head.
“It’s okay.”
She looked at Lily.
“I think I did.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Camille looked down.
“Sometimes adults spend so much time chasing one version of life that they forget to ask whether it’s the version they actually want.”
Lily stared.
“I don’t understand that.”
Camille smiled.
“That’s probably good.”
After lunch, Lily demanded ice cream even though snow still covered the sidewalks.
Andre refused.
Camille bought it.
“This is betrayal.”
Andre told her.
“This is diplomacy.”
Camille replied.
Lily nodded.
“I like diplomacy.”
They walked toward the park.
Lily ran ahead.
Andre and Camille stayed several yards behind.
“She’s wonderful.”
Camille said quietly.
“She’s chaos.”
“Wonderful chaos.”
Andre smiled.
“She likes you.”
Camille looked toward Lily.
“I like her.”
Something in her voice made Andre look at her.
Camille noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the face again.”
“What face?”
“The one where you’re thinking something and pretending you aren’t.”
Andre stopped walking.
“What were you going to tell me that night in college?”
Camille froze.
“The night your mother called.”
She looked away.
“I told you.”
“No.”
“You told me you loved me.”
“I mean before the call.”
Camille inhaled.
“I was going to tell you I loved you.”
Andre’s heart pounded.
“I had rehearsed it for two weeks.”
She laughed quietly.
“It was terrible.”
“What were you going to say?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Camille.”
“No.”
Andre smiled.
“You remember it.”
“I remember every humiliating word.”
“Tell me.”
She looked toward Lily.
Then back at Andre.
“I was going to tell you that every room felt easier when you were in it.”
Andre stopped smiling.
“That I kept volunteering to study with you because sometimes four hours across a table was the best part of my day.”
Her eyes grew wet.
“And that I thought maybe if I was brave enough to say it out loud, you might feel the same.”
Andre stared.
“I did.”
“I know that now.”
He looked down.
“Ten years.”
Camille nodded.
“Ten years.”
Lily turned from fifty feet away.
“Are you coming?”
Andre raised one hand.
“Yes!”
Camille wiped one eye.
“Perfect timing.”
“That’s parenting.”
They continued walking.
At the park, Lily ran toward the swings.
Andre and Camille sat on a bench.
Camille watched Lily climb.
“I’m not staying here forever.”
Andre turned.
“I know.”
“Maybe six months.”
“Maybe less.”
“I have a company in New York.”
“I know.”
“A board.”
“I know.”
“Thousands of employees.”
“Still know.”
Camille looked at him.
“So what exactly are we doing?”
Andre thought about it.
“I don’t know.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It’s honest.”
She looked toward the mountains.
“I don’t do uncertainty.”
“How’s certainty been working out?”
Camille smiled despite herself.
“Still rude.”
Andre leaned back.
“I’m not asking you to move into my house.”
“Good.”
“I’m not asking you to rearrange your life.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking if you want coffee tomorrow.”
Camille looked at him.
“That’s it?”
“That’s enough for tomorrow.”
She smiled.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Coffee tomorrow.”
Lily fell off the swing.
Andre stood immediately.
She jumped up laughing.
Camille shook her head.
“She’s fearless.”
“She gets that from her mother.”
“What does she get from you?”
Andre considered it.
“Overthinking.”
Camille laughed.
“That I believe.”
Coffee became breakfast.
Breakfast became dinners.
Dinners became Camille showing up at Andre’s house with expensive pastries she claimed she happened to find nearby despite the bakery being twenty minutes away.
Lily adored her.
That frightened Andre more than his own feelings did.
Adults could survive heartbreak.
Children collected it differently.
One Tuesday morning, Lily sat at the kitchen counter eating a croissant while Camille criticized Andre’s coffee maker.
“This thing is ancient.”
“It produces coffee.”
“It produces brown sadness.”
“It cost twenty-eight dollars.”
“That is apparent.”
Lily looked between them.
“Are you dating?”
Andre nearly dropped his mug.
Camille went still.
“Why do you ask?”
“Emma says when two adults keep coming to each other’s houses and smiling for no reason, they’re dating.”
Andre looked at Camille.
Camille looked at Andre.
“We’re spending time together.”
Camille said carefully.
Lily frowned.
“That sounds like dating.”
“It’s complicated.”
Andre said.
“You always say adult things are complicated.”
“They are.”