“Thank you.” He shrugs, a gesture I remember from when we were kids to downplay praise and attention. “Like I said at the funeral, your father convinced me I should when I ran into him.”

“Then it’s only fitting you’d receive an award in his name.” I twist the gold ring on my thumb Daddy gave me years ago. “It sounds incredible, what you’re doing at the school.”

“We’re on summer break.” Ezra hesitates, his glance fixed at some point on the floor, and then lifted to look me directly in the eye. “But you should come by sometime when you’re in town. How long are you here?”

The question probably only feels loaded to me. Maybe the intensity of his stare, the heat generated by his nearness, is my imagination, but I can’t look up when I answer, staring at my fresh manicure.

“Um, a couple of weeks,” I say. “I’m taking some time between campaigns.”

“We have to hang out,” Mona says. “The Three’s Company crew. Can’t we get together for lunch or something?”

“Oh.” I look up to find Ezra watching me closely, waiting. “Sure. That would be great.”

“You used to love barbecue,” she says. “You gotten all bougie on us, or you still okay with getting a little messy with your food?”

“It’s been too long,” I admit. “I’d love some good barbecue.”

“You’re thinking Tips?” Ezra asks Mona.

“Yeah. It’s this new place near Ponce City Market,” she says. “What do you have going on tomorrow?”

“This guy’s got a play date.” Ezra nods to Noah. “He’s leaving me all day to go to Stone Mountain.”

“Yup,” Noah says, his smile wide. “You guys can keep my dad company.”

“What do you ladies say?” Ezra asks us both, but looks at me. “You wanna keep me company?”

It’s like that moment at the funeral when we could’ve exchanged numbers. It felt like a risk then. With this invisible live wire that seems to connect me to him, it still is.

Before I can reply, my mother walks up to join us.

“Ezra Stern,” she says, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “Lord above, it is you. I hadn’t looked at the final list so you could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw you and heard your name.”

“It’s me,” Ezra says, his smile tentative. “How are you, Mrs. Allen?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got stingy with your hugs,” Mama says, resting her hands on her hips.

“No, ma’am.” Ezra reaches down to squeeze my much shorter mother.

“Who would have thought?” Mama pats his back and then pulls away to peer up at him. “Tall as your daddy. It’s good to see you.”