Sam’s face brightened when he saw me. Today his gi was red, and the color suited him.

“Back so soon?” he said as his students collected their things. “You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“Missed it more than I realized. Look, I don’t have my gi or anything. I was just hoping to drop in. How’s my timing?”

“Not great.” He nodded at the kids. “This was my last class of the day.”

“Ah,” I said, trying to mask my disappointment. “That’s okay. I’m really just killing time.”

Sam laughed and said, “Ouch.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll take any chance to see you that I can get.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s mouth twitched. “Tell you what, I’ll help you kill time another way. Can I buy you three or four cups of coffee?”

I looked at the splash of color on Sam’s high, apple-firm cheeks and the shine in his eyes and thought, oh. Strange, how the dynamic between two people can shift from innocent to complicated from one moment to the next. Had I done this? I replayed my last words in my mind and cursed myself. I’d never considered Sam in the context of a romantic relationship, not because I didn’t know if he was single, but because I didn’t see myself that way. My engagement was in the past, but only just. Was I even ready to consider dating again? With everything going on inside my head, my gut said bad idea.

The last of the teens pushed through the door just as a heavy man in a baseball hat entered.

“Hold that thought,” Sam said merrily as he left to attend to his customer. He was expecting me to say yes. As he walked to the counter to dig up a class schedule, I racked my brain for an exit strategy. I didn’t want to hurt Sam’s feelings. I really had come to like the guy, and I needed this class with every brain cell and shred of muscle tissue in my body.

“This is all on the website, too,” Sam said, “and if you want to leave your name and e-mail, I’ll get you on the mailing list.” The guy in the baseball cap got to scribbling, and Sam crossed the room to join me once more.

“So,” he said, “ever been to the Bean-In? They make a killer—”

“Thanks for the offer, but—”

“Oh.” Sam’s expression hardened. “Hey, it’s cool. No need to explain.”

“No, it’s just . . . I need to run some errands. A friend of mine turns fifty on Friday, and I have to find the perfect card.” That much was true. Mac was milking the milestone for all it was worth, and I planned to take her out to a no-holds-barred fish dinner, but the occasion seemed to warrant a funny Hallmark message about senior discounts or entering the prehistoric age, too. “Rain check?” I asked.

Sam searched my face for a second before saying, “Sure. Of course. I’ve got your number from sign-up. I’ll text you mine. FYI, Smuggler’s Cargo has some great cards, and I’ll be back here at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow if you’re game.”