“You look surprisingly at ease,” Eli told him as he led us up the steps of the church.

Conor snorted. “You know that Irish Catholic guilt you’ve been making fun of me for?”

“Yeah?”

“This is the upside of that.”

I smiled, then turned to Minami and Sul. Said, “I’ve never been to a christening.”

They answered, in unison, “Neither have I.”

They weren’t planning to have one for Kaede. But Sul was raised by his grandmother, who is “very Catholic,” and the whole baptism business is “very important” to her, even though Sul himself is “very indifferent” to the whole thing.

“Last I checked,” Minami whispered at me, “I was allergic to frankincense.”

“What I’m hearing is, we are all going to burst into flames when we step into that church.”

Conor was holding the door open for all of us, but I saw the little twitch in his jaw, the curve of a smile, and my blood bubbled in my veins.

Is it love if watching him almost laugh at my jokes turns me on ten times more than the professionally filmed and heavily filtered thirst-traps dudes send on apps?

“Careful there, Trouble,” he murmured, and that was the extent of our exchanges. After the ceremony, we sat at opposite ends of the restaurant table. I stole a grand total of three glances at him, and every time he was talking with a different person. Eli, Rue, Sul’s adorable grandma. I watched him stand and wander around with Kaede, to give Minami and Sul a chance to eat. Had the stupidest thought: he’d be a great dad. I’m not proud to admit it, but it wasn’t even the first time.

I bet some people would disagree. Say that he’s too cold, too arrogant, too focused on his job. But he’s a caretaker. Has that deadpan sense of humor that sends children in a tailspin. Yes, there’s a bit of a Teflon shell coating his entire soul, but he’d let a baby in. Would show his real self: a neurotic perfectionist who cares too much to let go of anything.

After dinner, he went to the airport, and then he was off to the Midwest for one of those agtech deals that he told me are his favorite. The following day he called Rue to ask for advice, because she’s really good at what she does, and occasionally consults for him. They talked about aquaculture for nearly an hour. Eli and I smiled as we made tortilla soup from the recipe McKenzie had texted me, listening to them argue, equally stubborn. Almost too cute.

Maybe we share a type, after all.

I miss Conor. A lot. I could pull out my phone, any day, any time, and I know he would pick up before the first ring is even over, but I don’t want to force him to make time for me. And in the end it’s okay, because a few nights later, he calls.

“How did the Zoom go?” he asks, like my little grad school meetings are as important as his million-dollar deals.