“You don’t know,” I said. “I have to tell you. Milk, for starters.”

He peeled off and found the dairy section and then found me again down a crowded aisle of canned things, and I sent him back with his two percent and told him to get whole milk, and then to look for olives and tomato sauce. For a while we shopped like that. I moved in solid lines and Cole circled back to me, each time with a heavier basket.

We ran into my old piano teacher in the bread aisle. I’d stopped taking piano lessons when I was fifteen, but Mrs. Mabe wrapped her arms around me in a hug and demanded I tell her every little thing I’d been up to.

“Nothing new,” I said. “Except, I guess, this is Cole. A friend of Lucas’s.”

“Lovely,” she said.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Cole said, taking her hand in both of his.

She gave me a conspiratorial look and mouthed the word cute when she said goodbye.

When we got in line to check out, Cole said, “Here. I’ll get these groceries.” He pulled several bills out of his pocket. “But, question for you—why introduce me as Lucas’s friend?”

I picked up a pack of gum and then put it back. “You’d rather I say you’re the reincarnation of baby Colin?”

“I don’t mean that. I mean, why Lucas’s friend? Aren’t I your friend?”

He tilted his head, looked at me, unsmiling, and I felt a sudden warm rush to my cheeks.

Later that day in front of the Lobster Claw, our hardware store, we saw Allison Ferrera, who had been two years behind me in school. Both her kids were crying by the wheelbarrows. She waved at me and then stared at Cole the whole time I was talking. She’d always been pretty, but a little stupid, and disproportionately beloved, in my opinion.

“Who’s this?” she said, nodding at Cole. I introduced him as an old friend of mine from college. I’m not sure why I lied, but Cole looked at me approvingly when I said it, and I felt a surge of warmth, the two of us connected, creating something together, even if the something was a lie.

“I thought you didn’t go to college,” Allison said.

“I left early because my mother died,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Allison said. “I put my foot in my mouth, didn’t I?”

“We met freshman year,” Cole said. “That sounds right.”

“Sounds right?” Allison said.

“Who can remember freshman year?” I said.

“What class was it?” Cole asked, snapping his fingers, as if trying to remember.

“I think it was psychology.”

“It was history,” he said, suddenly serious, almost angry.

“Well, it’s good to meet you,” Allison said. “Welcome to Wolf Island. The prettiest, most boring place on earth.”