“A lot. Yeah.” I shake my head. “I can’t talk about this anymore. It’s killing my buzz.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that.” He steers me toward the side of the path. “Come meet my friends.”

And I get nervous until my eyes catch a line of little bronze statues on the ground at my feet—ducks.

I crouch down to pet one of them.

“Hi,” I say to them. I look up at Drew. “They’re so cute.”

“These guys are famous.” Drew squats down beside me. “Ever read the kids’ book Make Way for Ducklings?”

I can almost hear Mom as she turns the page, making the quack sounds of the ducks. Mae and I are in matching nightgowns, our toenails painted pink. I nod, feeling teary all of a sudden. I stand, blinking hard so they don’t fall.

Drew slips his hand into mine. “Jesus, your hands are freezing.”

I shrug. “We don’t need gloves in LA.”

I can tell he knows I’m about to cry, and it’s nice that he doesn’t get weird about that.

He tugs on my hand. “Come on, let’s warm you up.”

I should take my hand out of his, but I don’t. It’s so warm. We hurry through the gardens across from the Common, but I stop as we reach a bronze angel statue tucked into a corner at the far end of the gardens. She’s in the middle of a fountain, on a pedestal, holding a basket. Her wings cut into the bright blue of the sky.

“Oh,” I breathe.

Something about her fills me up. Her face is so calm. Serene. For a minute, that peace washes over me, too, smoothing over the anger and sadness. The Judgment card in the tarot. Waking the dead.

Drew’s hand tightens around mine, and when I look over, he’s watching me with the strangest expression.

“What?” I say.

He clears his throat. “Nothing.”

His eyes are gray with little flecks of gold, which somehow the charcoal beanie he’s wearing brings out. I suddenly have an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him, to have his arms around me, to be held, and I know it’s only because I’m needy, but it freaks me out, how close I am to rushing through the space between us.

I let go of his hand. “Coffee?”

“Er. Right.” He puts that hand to the back of his neck and looks down for a minute. “Yeah. There’s a Dunkies on Newbury.”

“What is the obsession with Dunkin’ Donuts in this place?”

It seems like there’s one on every corner. Not that I’m complaining.

He grins, and it looks good on him. “We Bostonians have very discerning taste.”