“Yes. Fine.”

He gives me an odd look but takes another mouthful.

“And you?” I ask.

He swallows. “Me?”

“Yes. You. Are you feeling OK?”

He frowns. “You mean, health wise?”

“I mean any wise, really. Anything on your mind?”

“No.”

It’s there again. That fleeting look of deception. He is not telling me something.

“Tell me more about this friend of yours.”

He puts down his utensils and pushes his plate away. “What do you want to know?”

I shrug. “Let’s start with the basics. A name. How do you know him? Is he from around here?”

“His name is Henry. I have known him for a long time, ten years or more. No, he is not from around here.”

“Is there a reason why you’re being deliberately vague?”

“I’m not having an affair, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Of course not. I didn’t think that for a second.”

“Then what? I don’t understand what it is that you’re accusing me of.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. But you’re holding back, and I know that something is wrong.” My voice becomes shaky. “I feel like I’m losing you.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t call me ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I didn’t. Not you. I just meant…” He sighs. “Are you feeling up for a walk on the beach?”

I’m not, not really, but I don’t tell him that. “Yes.”

He stands and holds out a hand. I hesitate.

“Trust me,” he says quietly, imploringly.

I take his hand and look up into his eyes, willing him to be strong enough for me. “Always.”

The moon, low over the water, lights our way. At first I think it is full, but closer inspection reveals a sliver missing on the bottom right side. The tiniest fraction of moon still hidden in shadow. Another cycle and her full glory will be revealed. I’ve always loved a full moon. For one night a month, it shines down with a mystical beauty that unleashes the crazy and the poetical within us all; a free pass to release your wild side. I kissed a stranger beneath a full moon once, something I’ve never been brave enough to do before or since. A whim at a teenage party on a night long ago, I’d forgotten all about it, but now the memory makes me smile. I wonder if he remembers too.

“Are you cold?”

James’s voice rouses me from the past.

“No.”

“Come here anyway.”

He pulls me into his side, an arm around my shoulders. Not for the first time I marvel at how well I fit into his side, as if we were measured for this exact purpose. He kisses the top of my head and we fall into a slow walk, our feet bare in the sand, our path lit by the moon. The surface of the ocean is like a mirror, luminescent with the light from above. It is so beautiful and I am feeling so maudlin I start to cry. James stops and turns me to face him, pulling my chin up gently.