Meg had started dropping hints—not entirely nicely—that if he were to start this new bachelor life, he had better update his wardrobe. He could admit that he’d never really gotten the hang of buying clothes that fit. He just felt silly trying, even though he could afford it, and who cared if everything was perfectly tailored? But he had this coffee...engagement...with Theo, the day after tomorrow, and he wanted to—

He thought it might be good. To look nice.

“You look fine, Jack.”

Meg sat on the tufted bench in the dressing room. They were trying to do the “friend” thing, and when it didn’t feel painfully awkward, it felt as natural as breathing. He’d taken her with him as moral support—she had almost insisted, laughing and informing him that he shouldn’t be left alone to make fashion decisions—and she was taking great pleasure in approving or vetoing every item. It wasn’t exactly how he had planned the day, but it saved him from having to think about it, really.

“I—”

Popular style had moved on a bit from when he was a teenager, and he was still unsure of skinny jeans, but that seemed to be all that was available. He wore a fitted shirt which showed off his broad shoulders, and maybe he did look good, but he was thirty-seven years old, for goodness’ sake.

He felt like an idiot.

Not a new feeling.

“Is this really all right?”

Meg looked at him with her critical eye and a fair amount of exasperation at his insecurities. He remembered her appraising glances before they went to Pride, and how she always thought he was handsome, if a generally ridiculous human being. “I think he’ll drool all over himself, to be honest.”

“Uh—” An awkward stutter.

He hadn’t actually mentioned what had inspired this shopping spree. But she knew him. She always had, even though there were some things about him she really didn’t.

They had such a long history together, from those early summer days at the pool to the grueling nights with wailing infants. He thought back to some of their best times, moments which somehow seemed more perfect now, since he had made the decision to leave her. Those memories hurt in such a beautiful way, because he had tried to build a life around the simplicity of childlike affection. He looked at her reflection in the mirror behind him, and he felt the weight of each day he tried to make himself into the man who could love her. He remembered—

A Japanese maple grew near the stone gate to the school, and Jack had passed under it often, enjoying the shade and few moments of leafy calm, but he hadn’t climbed it until that bright day in May, his sophomore year, when he hadn’t completed his chemistry homework and he needed someplace to hide for an hour.