Beckett looked down at his hands, turning the silverware over again. “Because you’re my friend,” he said, finally looking right at me. “And I didn’t want you to be here alone.”

I smiled at him, even though it hurt. I could see that he hadn’t come because he was trying to get back together, and I saw in his eyes that he no longer had those feelings for me. It was over. If I’d been brave enough back in August, maybe we wouldn’t be here. But we were. And I was lucky enough to have him as a friend.

I slid a little closer, until I was right next to him, closer than I’d been in months. Close enough to see how his teeth were just slightly crooked, the birthmark by his ear. I reached out slowly and touched his cheek, knowing it was the last time I’d be able to do it.

I stretched forward and kissed him—a last kiss.

He kissed me back, but I could tell it was the same kind of kiss for him. This wasn’t a kiss that was leading to anything. It was a goodbye.

I pulled back and smiled at him. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Anytime.”

“Okay, here we are with your appetizers.” The people who’d flanked the manager were back, and were setting out more food than made any sense out on the table—oysters on the half shell and truffle mac and cheese and bruschetta and what looked like some kind of slider. Todd wasn’t with them, and I wondered if he’d been exiled away from our table for the night. “We’ll be back with the rest,” the man setting the sliders down murmured, before backing away.

“The rest?” I asked, incredulous.

“We still don’t have menus,” Beckett called after them, but they were already gone. He shook his head, then turned to me. “Stevie? What do you want?”

I looked at the food—which smelled amazing and was reminding me just how long ago it had been that I’d eaten anything. But as I looked at it, I realized that the answer wasn’t anywhere on this table. I hadn’t been brave enough to tell Beckett the truth when I needed to, and I didn’t want to make the same mistake again. “I want to go talk to my dad,” I said slowly, feeling how true it was as I spoke the words.

“Oh,” Beckett said, macaroni serving spoon halfway to his plate. He set it down and looked at me. “I meant, like, food-wise.”