Laura laughed. “That’s what I had, with Nina.”

“At Village Pizza?”

Laura nodded. “Yeah, if that’s the one on Larchmont. It was excellent.”

Bob threw her the ball. “I’m going to go get some actually, it’s better fresh. I assume you don’t want any more?”

She laughed. “No.”

“Ice cream?” He was grinning at her. “I know you’re not the biggest fan of driving, but maybe a pineapple upside-down cake sundae might tempt you out . . .”

For a second he thought he’d messed up again, because her face grew still. But then she shrugged.

“You know what? I’ve discovered pretending something isn’t hard doesn’t actually make it easier. I’m having a tough time being in a car right now, yes, but I’m not going to give up driving forever, am I?”

Bob shrugged. “Uh . . . doubtful? This being the twenty-first century.”

“Right.” Laura sounded determined. “So yes, I will come with you, and yes, I will have some ice cream.” She hesitated. “Although I did also have some of that with Nina, too.” She took a deep breath. “But I need to keep up my strength.”

Bob burst out laughing. “Wow, you sound like you’re going to war.”

Laura was reminded of Polly’s description of Bob rolling up his sleeves, like a knight of old England.

“It feels a bit like that, but you’ve already seen me freak out twice, so it’s not like you could think less of me.”

Bob had started walking back into the house, but at this he turned. “Why would I think less of you for freaking out? Everyone’s scared of something.” He looked around for somewhere to put the basketball, and his hair fell over his face.

Laura shook her head, wishing she were close enough to push it away. “Not in my house. In my house no one admitted to being scared of anything.”

“Well, if I can sort of quote one of my friends, pretending something isn’t scary doesn’t make it any less so.” He turned back to the house, and Laura followed him. “I don’t like rats very much, and I come across a lot of them at work. They nest in ivy, you know, and other plants like that, and every time one of them bolts out, I squeal like a four-year-old girl.” He laughed ruefully. “Literally, I sound like one of my little nieces, except that they probably wouldn’t run away like a flamingo, trying to keep their feet off the ground.” He did a quick impersonation of himself, high-stepping, squealing, and running, making Laura laugh. He grinned at her. “By the way, I like your braids. Very cute.”

“Thanks,” she said, blushing. As they approached his truck, though, she felt herself slowing.

He turned and looked at her. “I can bring you some . . .” he said, but she shook her head.