They grunt as I slip away toward the back of the deck.

“Hey,” I say, nudging his arm with mine. “Got a light?”

“Aurora Morris,” he says like he’s about to serve me papers.

“Thought you might be here tonight,” I tell him. I’m looking at him, but he’s staring out at the yard.

“You knew I’d be here,” he says, setting his Zippo down on the banister for me. I use it.

“Thanks,” I say, returning the lighter to the same spot. I take a drag. You know what? Composure is overrated. “So were you just never going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“About Mia?”

“What?” He’s finally looking at me, and now I wish he weren’t.

“Did you think I’d never find out? You are aware she and I are friends, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ah, interesting. Straight-up denial. I sort of figured you’d fess up, but you’re going the doubling-down route. Interesting choice.”

He leans his head back and exhales, then puts his cigarette out. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“You don’t actually want me. You blow me off. You hook up with other people behind my back. Now you’re talking about Mia. What about Mia?”

“You went out with her.”

“I took her for a drink after her father’s funeral. She was alone. I felt bad. I have zero interest in Mia Russo.”

Gotta say, the greater context of the drink would have been helpful to know sooner.

“She said you went for drinks. Said you kept texting her.”

“To see how she was doing. She’d just lost her dad. Nothing happened, Rory. The night I took her was the same night I saw you.”

“What?”

“When you first got back. That’s why I was at the bar that night. I took Mia. She bailed early. Got all weird and flustered, then just up and left. Half hour later you showed up. Like I said, nothing happened.”

“Then why didn’t you mention it?”

“I wasn’t thinking about it. It was inconsequential.”

“That’s not how she made it sound,” I mumble, ashamed because I know in my bones he’s telling the truth.

“When? Why didn’t you ask me about it?” He shakes his head. “Don’t bother answering. I know why. You’re looking for any excuse. Any out. And it’s fine. I get it.”

“You’re wrong,” I tell him. “I don’t want out. I want you.”

The smokers are all listening. Watching. I’m keenly aware. We’re putting on a real show.

Ian sighs. “I wish I could believe you. I know about Brian.”

“Who’s Brian?”

“The Corner Pub.”

“You mean Kevin?”

“Who’s Kevin?”

“I’m confused,” I say. “This is all beside the point.”

“Rory, it’s okay. I get it. You don’t have feelings for me. You never have. You never will. We’re cool. If you want attention, you don’t need me for it. Think you already know that.”

What I want to say is You don’t understand! I do have feelings for you! The most feelings!