Page 136 of The Pairing

“For nine years now, I do this tour,” Fabrizio says, holding his glass of prosecco aloft. “Since I was twenty-five years old. If I am honest, sometimes I cannot wait for this dinner. Sometimes the people are not so good, and the weather much worse, and I wish to be home soon as I can. And sometimes, this dinner breaks my heart, because the people are so kind, and the sky is so blue, and the wind is so warm, and the love in my heart for food and wine and history shines back to me from all of you, and I do not want to say goodbye. Tonight, amici, my heart is broken.”

People sigh. My own heart aches. Beneath the table, Theo reaches for my hand.

“Grazie mille ragazzi,” Fabrizio says with shimmering eyes, “thank you for coming along with me. I hope you will remember me well. Salute!”

“Salute!” the room calls back, and we drink to our dear, delicious, devastating Fabrizio.

Before the end of dinner, we sneak away to the smallest, emptiest beach we can find nearby. We stand before the setting sun and take out the whiskey, like we always said we would. Theo has another day and a half on their own before they fly home, but Ileave first thing in the morning, so this is our last chance. Funnily enough, though, Theo has a layover in Paris.

As we drink, Theo asks, “Which city was your favorite?”

I consider my answer for a long time.

Finally, I admit, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Saint-Jean-de-Luz.”

“I was going to say that one too,” Theo says. “All the others I felt like I was visiting, but Saint-Jean-de-Luz felt like a home, you know? Or—I guess Paris is home to you, so maybe not.”

“No, I know what you mean,” I say. “There was something about it, a sort of. ..”

“Peace,” they finish for me.

I nod, letting the tide wash up to my ankles. Theo passes me the whiskey, and I savor its burn.

“I think these might have been the most important three weeks of my life,” Theo says. “There were so many things I didn’t even know I was capable of until I was doing them. And I never would’ve known if I hadn’t come. And now, when I look at my life back home, I feel like I can see actually see it clearly from here.”

“I know what you mean about clarity,” I say. “You know I’ve been trying to readA Room with a Viewfor two years now?”

Theo shakes their head. “Really? You?”

“I know. It’s been like that with so many things. Baking for myself, or making up recipes, or painting, or drawing. I just haven’t had it in me. I packed that book and all those sketchbooks because I was hoping that something here would bring it out. And now I feel like. . .like I’m starting to come back to life. Like I’m a plant and someone finally remembered to water me.”

After a long moment of thought, Theo says, “You used to get this look on your face when you were baking—thissmile,like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.”

I consider this, the differences between now and then, when I was baking my own recipes in my own kitchen. I think I couldfeel that way again, under the right conditions.

“I might need a new job,” I confess. Theo laughs quietly, and so do I. “What about you? What’ll you do when you get home?”

“I think,” Theo says, tipping their chin up with a declarative air, “I will try to figure out what the one thing I want to do is, and then really commit to that thing.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“And I think maybe,maybe,I will talk to Sloane about the money. And maybe I could even move out of the Valley, to somewhere new,” they say. “I don’t know. There’s so much world out here.”

“There is,” I agree.

“Most of all,” they say, “I want us to stay friends.”

God, I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear them say that until they did. I touch their cheek with my fingertips, swimming in the clear-water blues and greens of their eyes.

“I want that too,” I say. “I don’t want you to ever not be in my life.”

“Good,” they say fiercely. “And I’ll come visit you.”

I raise my eyebrows, teasing. “Will you?”

“I will.” They put their arms around my waist. “And you’ll come visit me, and there could be. . .benefits.”

“Benefits,” I repeat. “I’ll always want your benefits.”

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