I check my reflection one last time, as if it’s going to change. I’ve trimmed my beard so it’s not as bushy, combed my hair so it’s not as shaggy. My best jeans, cleanest Caterpillar boots, and the green-and-blue checked flannel with the pearl snap buttons, which Lisa always went nuts for.

It’s just a shirt. And I look good in it. It’s not a betrayal of Lisa to wear that shirt for a different woman.

It’s not.

Am I asking myself, or telling myself? I’m not sure.

Instead of cologne, I use the trick Lisa invented for me: I shave little curls off of a piece of fresh cedar, and tuck those shavings into the breast pockets of the shirt, which I then button closed. Boom—fresh cedar scent, without the oils.

Clean hands, clean fingernails. Fresh breath.

It’s been forever since I’ve done this, and my hands are a little trembly, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, if I’m missing something.

It’s 6:02, and I head outside.

I wish I had time to run into town and buy some daisies to give to her. And then I wonder if that would be too forward, too much too soon, giving her flowers.

I spin my truck keys around my middle finger, waiting for her.

She comes out a few minutes later. My breath catches. A deep blue shirt-dress down to her thighs, with a wide brown leather belt around her waist, her long tan legs bare between the hem and knee-high boots a similar shade of brown as her belt. The shirt-dress has several buttons plunging down her chest, and she’s left most of them unbuttoned. Is she wearing makeup? I can’t tell. Which means if she is, it’s skillfully enough applied that I’m not supposed to know. Her eyes look bright green, more emerald than jade today. Her lips are plump and red.

“You look…” I hunt for an appropriate but accurate word, and settle for lame but true. “Beautiful.”

She grins, teasing. “You had to think about that one, Nathan.”

“Only because there’s a lot of words I could use.” I smile at her. “Gorgeous. Breathtaking. Stunning.”

She blushes, ducks her head. “Thanks.” Her head lifts, and her eyes flick over my shoulders, my hair. “You look great, too. I really like that shirt.”

“Thanks.” I slap my hand awkwardly on my thigh. “Well, shall we?”

“Sure. I’ll follow you.”

I hesitate. “You sure you don’t want to change your mind about driving separate? I’m fine either way.”

She makes a face. “Yeah, I’d just be more comfortable this way.”