Page 21 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
For Chloe, though… He rose without question and went over to the counter to order her a caramel cappuccino.
But as he ordered, he added, “Make that to go.” As much as he wanted to be around her, the less time he allowed, the less chance she’d have to recognize him.
“No, I think I’ll make it forhere,” Giovanni said, winking as he glanced over at Chloe sitting at Oliver’s table.
“Giovanni.”
“My shop, my rules.” He grinned and shrugged like there was nothing he could do.
While Oliver waited for the coffee, he watched Chloe through the crowd. She had pulled a novel out of her bag but then hadn’t gotten around to actually reading it, because she was too busy smiling at everyone who walked in and out of the bakery past their table, taking time to say hello, to coo at a baby, to make happy faces at the puppy tied to the lamppost outside. Just the same as the Chloe he had known as a kid.
Oliver sighed wistfully. She didn’t realize what an act of bravery it was to look someone in the eye and smile without expecting anything in return. Hers was not a smile that demanded that the other person cheer up or even smile back. Instead, it was a gift with no strings attached—affirmation that she saw you and it made her happy that you existed and had crossed herpath. She had done this all throughout their childhood, for everyone who came near her.
There’s nothing better, Oliver thought,than a smile from Chloe Quinn.
A few minutes later, he returned to their table with a caramel cappuccino in a red mug. Giovanni had designed it with a heart in the milk foam. Oliver was going to pummel him the next time they were at jiu jitsu.
“Ooh, thank you.” Chloe held the mug up to her nose and closed her eyes for a second, inhaling appreciatively.
Oliver could only watch silently.
But by the time she opened her eyes again, he was back to looking studiously at the table.
“What’s the most interesting thing you’ve read recently?” she asked, splaying her hands over the cover of the book she was reading, as if he’d cheat and steal that title as his answer.
As accustomed to her non sequiturs as he’d been as a teenager, Oliver was still startled by the way Chloe opened the conversation.
He cleared his throat. “You don’t start with, ‘So, what do you do for a living?’ like everyone else?”
She smiled into her cappuccino. “I read somewhere that that’s not actually normal. It’s a very American thing to ask, to be focused on our jobs as if they’re the sole definers of our identities. But if you go to a French dinner party, they askinterestingquestions, like, ‘What are you reading now? What was the best movie you watched in the last year? Do you believe in fate or reincarnation?’?”
“That’s… a big jump from books and movies to reincarnation.”
Chloe laughed. “You’re stalling. Is it because you don’t read, so you don’t have a book to share?”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “I’m readingThe Shape of a Lifeby Shing-Tung Yau, about the hidden geometric dimensions of the universe.”
“Oh! Wow. Now I feel dopey,” Chloe said. She uncovered her book on the table, revealing a ring of cupolaed gold buildings, arced like a crown. “I’m reading a young adult fantasy about a magical duel set in Imperial Russia.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Of course not,” Chloe said. “Sometimes teenagers are wiser than adults. I should know, I’m a guidance counselor. Which, by the way, is the answer tothe boring question you wanted me to ask. But still, a YA novel isn’t a book about the geometrical secrets of the galaxy.”
Oliver poked at his quiche.
“All right, then,” Chloe said. “Since you’re obviously interested in the big things in life—like the shape of the universe—do you believe that coincidences are significant?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” She hadn’t given any indication that she knew who he was, other than connecting the dots between now and the Little Tokyo encounter.
Chloe pointed between the two of them. “Like, why did we run into each other again, when it’s probabilistically unlikely in a city this size. Is it just serendipity or something else?”
Oliver shoved away from the table and stood up. “No.”
Her mouth parted, confused. “What?”
“No. We’re not doing this.” Because Oliverhadcalculated the probabilistic odds of them meeting again in so short a time period, and it was a statistically significant outlier that their paths had crossed. The book he was reading was about very complicated math and string theory, and one of the concepts was that there were low-energy vibrational strings that serve as connectors. Oliver could feel that vibration now between him and Chloe, as if the universe was trying to bring them back together no matter what. But he couldn’t let it happen, because reconnecting and revealing who he was would mean opening up old, deep wounds. He wanted to spare Chloe as much as he wanted to spare himself.
“We’re not doingwhat?” Chloe asked. Her cappuccino had sloshed all over the table when Oliver pushed away.
