That was…a big question. How long did he have? Because she could make a really long list.

“You started to say that you needed something from me,” he prompted.

“Oh! Yes! I need you to send me a selfie.”

“Why?”

“Because I need a picture of you with your beard.”

“For what?”

“For a diagram.”

He laughed. “Now?”

He was working, and she needed him to send her a selfie so she could put it next to Sadie from the diner and prove how not well suited they were—was that unreasonable? She was still pondering the question—it was like she’d decided to give herself a really hard test—when he said, “Okay, hang on a sec.”

There was some rustling followed by the chime of an incoming text.

And there he was.

Oh, he was so pretty. It wasn’t fair. He was sitting in his cruiser, which appeared to be parked near the little beach. The car’s interior light was on, maybe so he could illuminate the shot—so thoughtful! The dim, yellow light made his face glow. There was an odd slice of different, focused light coming from some outside source. It gave the illusion of a white streak in his beard. It made her wonder if he would still have that beard when he was old.

Actually, the real question was, Would she still know him when he was old?

The prospect of not knowing him made her sad, suddenly—though maybe that was six glasses of wine talking. But realistically, was she going to keep in touch with him after she sold the Mermaid and moved back to Toronto? They’d moved from not not-friends to genuine friends—with a detour for making out that one time—but were they go-out-of-your-way-to-keep-in-touch-when-you-don’t-live-in-the-same-town friends? Probably not.

She cleared her throat to break up the tightness that had lodged there. “You’re at the lake?”

“Yeah. Sometimes when I have a break in the action on a hectic shift I come here and look at the water.” He paused. “That sounds lame.”

“No. I do it, too.” What had all her standing in the lake staring at the horizon last summer been, if not that? And she and Maya had done a few more sessions of moonflower-throwing. In fact, they were going to do it again tomorrow. “I’m coming back tomorrow, and Maya wants to throw flowers into the lake. She says even though it’s not a full moon, it’s a good idea to start the new year with a wish. I’m telling you, there’s something, I don’t know, soul-calming about that lake.”

And…she was officially a maudlin drunk. Enough of that. Time for a mood swing. She put the phone on speaker and swiped back to his picture. Who was she kidding? He would look good with Sadie Cinnamon Rolls. He would look good with anyone.

“What are you going to wish for?” he asked.