Page 12 of Picture Perfect

“Mark?” She laughs. “Hell no. Do you remember in third grade when Lena Banks’ parents divorced, and she had to move to Maine?”

“She was the one with the frizzy red hair, right?”

“Yes,” she smiles. “We bonded over the troubles of red hair in first grade and became best friends for two years. I still text her sometimes.”

“Wow, really?”

“She’s married to a lovely woman and they have eight dogs on a farm in Georgia.”

“Huh. Good for her.”

Autumn asked, “How is Jonah doing in preschool? Can’t be easy for a tech genius to be stuck around a bunch of children all day.”

I laugh. “Uh, it’s not. He’s convinced he’s in the wrong class and that he should be in fifth grade.”

“Why fifth grade?”

“Probably because I told Ellie when she goes into fifth grade and proves herself responsible enough, then we can revisit the puppy discussion. I think he thinks that’s when you’re an adult.”

“Poor guy.”

I nod and sip her favorite wine. It’s good and suits the meal, but I miss my Syrah. “Also, he has a bully.”

“No!”

“Some kid who keeps knocking him into the dirt and laughing about it. I had to meet with the teachers today, actually. I hope it gets better soon. I’d hate to have to kick a four-year-old’s ass.”

She giggles hard, and her freckles dance on her face. It’s adorable. “Uh, maybe hold off on that.”

“For now. But I make no promises for the future.”

Autumn smiles, and her gaze drifts to the sea.

There’s no moon out, so the stars glitter on the water. With the string quartet playingIf I Ain’t Got You, I want to ask her a question, but I’m not sure how to ask it. The song is romantic, so I don’t want to make this weird…Fuck the indecision, I’m just making myself crazy. We said we’d dance tonight, just ask.“Autumn, would you like to dance?”

Her smile brightens. “Sure?”

More of a question than an answer but I’ll take it.

I take her hand and lead her to the middle of the deck. She’s lighter on her feet than the last time we danced. “Remember the junior dance in high school?”

She laughs. “Mostly, I remember Jimmy Nichol’s breath when he danced with me.”

“That bad?”

“Weirdly no. He had chocolate chip cookie breath, which was odd, because we hadn’t been anywhere there were chocolate chip cookies. We’d gone out for sushi right before the dance, so I was baffled. I kept trying to figure it out, but when I asked him about it, for some reason, he thought that was an invitation to kiss me.” She shuddered in my arms.

“Bad kiss?”

“Seventeen-year-old boys do not know how to kiss. They’re all tongue, and they just jam it in there, like they are trying to stab your tonsils with it.”

I laugh and pray I was not that bad at kissing at that age. Or at any age. “So, when was the last time you were kissed?”

Autumn’s head drops forward against my lapel. “It’s been over a year.”

“Damn. I’m so sorry.”

She looks up at me. “Yeah, well.” A shrug. “To get kissed, you have to date. To date, you have to put yourself out there, and with as much work as I’ve been pulling, I haven’t exactly had the time to put myself out there.”

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