Page 42 of Falling for You Again

Aaron nods at the elderly woman shopping for flowers at the florist stand across the street. She’s confessing to her granddaughter that she had a clandestine affair with King Charles and he is her biological grandfather. I laugh around a bite of sandwich and start coughing. Then I’m wheezing and chugging down water and laugh even harder. Aaron delivered his story with a horrendous British accent. I appreciate what he’s doing, creating new memories to fill the void between my childhood and now, even if he’s not aware of it.

When we finish, we walk to Boston Common to pick up the Freedom Trail. Aaron hasn’t walked it since a fourth-grade field trip. We follow the painted red line to the State House and Park Street Church, and on to the Granary Burying Ground, where we leave Boston Common to take in the King’s Chapel and Benjamin Franklin’s statue. Each site reminds me of my youth, and I realize I’ve long avoided swaths of the city because I ventured there with my parents.

“Did you know oysters are an aphrodisiac?” Aaron asks at lunch. He tosses an empty shell in the bowl between us and picks up his beer.

“Are you telling me you’re horny, Aaron?”

He slaps a hand over his mouth before he accidentally sprays the beer he just gulped. “No.”

“I’m teasing you, and that’s a myth. There’s no scientific proof.”

“It worked for Casanova. Boosted his libido,” he says. I roll my eyes, but I’m grinning and Aaron smiles. “There she is.”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem to be having fun. I’m having a great time. But there have been a couple moments when, I don’t know ... Are you okay, Meli? If you don’t want to do this today, we can go back to the house.”

“No, I’m having a great time.” I attempt a smile that falls flat. Aaron gives me a look clearly stating he doesn’t believe me.

I rest my spoon in my chowder bowl and fold my hands in my lap. The posture brings down my shoulders. “I used to play tourist with my parents when I was a kid. It’s bringing back a lot of memories.” Like when Dad and I made up stories about the people buried in the old cemeteries along the trail.

“Good memories?” he asks.

“Yes and no.” After my parents had to go away, Uncle Bear tried to fill the void they left by taking me on art walks through the city, but it wasn’t the same. Either he stopped trying to fill in for my parents or I lost interest. I’m sure it was a little of both. But the outings eventually stopped and we spent Saturdays working at the shop.

“Meli, I’m sure much hasn’t changed since Maui. I’m going to assume you still don’t like talking about your parents. But if you ever feel the need to, you can tell me. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

He gives me a slight smile as he nods and goes back to dressing up another oyster with lemon and vinegar, and my heart opens a small back door I didn’t know existed. If I do end up talking to anyone about my parents, other than Emi, for what little I’ve shared of them with her, I think it would be Aaron.

“I’m having a great time with you,” I repeat with genuine cheer. I always have fun with him.

His smile broadens. “Just wait until you see where we’re going next.”

After lunch, we take the T to Cambridge and spend a few hours browsing shops until we find ourselves in a bookstore at Aaron’s suggestion, perusing new releases and wandering the aisles. It’s the perfect end to what has been one of the best days I’ve had in a long while. Aaron can’t find a book that interests him, and I offer to select one for him.

“What if I don’t like it?”

“You’ll like it,” I say confidently. “I’m a book whisperer. I’ve never recommended one that someone doesn’t like. Emi’s always asking me for titles.”

“How do you know she reads them? Maybe she’s just being nice and doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I scoff in mock offense, and he playfully nudges my arm with his elbow. “I know because she posts reviews. They’re all positive.”

He returns a bestseller with an old merchant ship on the cover to the shelf. “All right. Pick one.”

I tap my lips. “If you were stuck on a deserted island with a magically powered TV—”

His mouth pulls to the side with his raised brows. “A magically powered TV?”

“There’s no electricity. Just go with it. There’s a magically powered TV with one series that plays over and over, but you get to choose the series. What is it?”

“Sherlock.”

I make a note of that. “Would you rather spend a weekend in a haunted house, be chased by dragons, or explore a forgotten temple?”

“These are the strangest questions.”

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