Chapter 4: Brunch

Lila arrived at brunch with an armful of dahlias.

They were deep red, the color she knew I loved, and she had wrapped them in brown paper and tied them with twine.

"For my favorite person," she said, and hugged me so hard my ribs creaked.

I hugged her back.

I did it because I had decided to, and because my body had been doing it for eleven years and didn't know yet.

She smelled like vanilla.

"You look tired," she said, holding me at arm's length. "Are they working you to death at the hospital?"

"Night shifts."

"Poor baby. Sit. I ordered the pancakes for the table."

We sat in a booth by the window overlooking Lake Harriet.

Brett slid in beside me, close enough that our thighs touched.

His hand found my knee under the table and stayed there, warm and heavy.

I looked at the dahlias and breathed.

"Where's the mimosa?" Brett asked Lila. "You always start us off."

"Ginger tea for me," Lila said, and made a face. "I'm still on those antibiotics. Doctor said no alcohol, and she meant it."

"For your sinuses?"

"For my everything. I feel like a leaky boat."

The waiter took our order.

Lila asked for dry toast, and Brett laughed and said she was no fun.

I picked up my water glass and watched her over the rim.

She looked well.

Her skin was clear, and her cheeks were pink, and she kept one hand flat against the front of her sweater.

"How was Duluth?" I asked.

She didn't blink.

"Freezing. My sister made me hike Park Point at six in the morning. I told her I wasn't built for sunrise."