The bartender stopped by our booth to ask whether we wanted another round. Mike ordered, Leo tried to negotiate an extra basket of fries, and I asked for water because I planned to drive home. It was a small decision made without explanation, and it pleased me for reasons I could not have articulated. There had been a period when I measured every choice against what might annoy someone else. Now I was thinking about the road home and whether I wanted to stop at the bakery in the morning.
Chloe stood up from her table just as the bartender moved away. I saw her pause to speak to Sarah, who shook her head, then watched as Chloe took a breath and began walking toward us. She moved carefully through the crowded pub, her eyes fixed on me as if looking away might make her lose her nerve. Sarah remained near the wall, holding her drink and watching with the guarded expression she had worn on the phone call. I placed my glass down and waited.
As Chloe approached, a memory returned so suddenly that I almost closed my eyes. I remembered her crossing a crowded room at a friend's birthday party three years earlier, carrying two paper cups and smiling because she had found me after we had been separated by the noise. We had been new to each other then, uncertain and hopeful, and the look she gave me felt like an invitation into a future neither of us knew how to describe. I had fallen in love with that look before I knew how much else there was to learn about her. Seeing her walk toward me now reminded me of the distance between first meetings and last ones.
She stopped beside our table. Her hands were held close to her body, fingers curled lightly as though she did not know what to do with them. Mike and Leo fell quiet without turning the moment into a spectacle. For a second, Chloe seemed unable to speak, and I could see how difficult it was for her to stand there in front of people who remembered us together. Then she said my name, quietly enough that it almost disappeared into the pub's noise.
"Mark. Hi."
I looked up at her and gave a small nod. "Hi, Chloe," I said. Her gaze moved over my face and shoulders, taking in the fact that I was relaxed and laughing with friends, and something hopeful flickered in her eyes. "You look good," she said. I thanked her, not wanting to be cruel but not wishing to pretend the compliment opened a door. Then I asked, "How have you been?"
The question seemed to catch her off guard. She pressed her lips together, looked briefly toward Sarah, and then back at me. "Not great," she admitted. "Actually, pretty terrible."
I waited, aware that Mike had begun turning a coaster between his fingers while Leo watched the dartboard instead of either of us. Chloe swallowed and went on. "I miss you, Mark. And I know I've probably got no right to say that."