Cal was already outside the café when Tess reached it.
He sat at one of the small round tables beside the railing, a cup in front of him and his jacket over the other chair. He looked up before she called his name. Tess was pleased by that: he had been watching for her.
“You came,” he said.
“I had a little time.”
He moved the jacket. She sat down and put her tote between her feet.
The river was low. Across it the trees made a soft, uneven edge against the buildings, and a strip of mud showed below the wall. Tess had remembered this place as prettier. She had also remembered Cal sitting across from her as easier than it was.
“What do you want?” he asked.
The answer that came into her head would have embarrassed them both.
“Tea.”
“Still?”
“Still.”
He stood up. “I'll get it.”
“I can—”
“I know.”
He went inside before she could make something difficult out of a cup of tea. Tess took her phone out and put it on the table. She set her left hand beside it, palm down.
The green stone seemed too bright now. Anyone could see it. A woman at another table could see it. Cal would see it when he came back, and ask, and there would be no way to pretend she hadn't meant him to notice.
She pulled her hand into her lap.
Then she thought of the empty chair Mara had crossed off the seating plan and put it back on the table.
Cal returned with tea and a plate of three little oval biscuits. He placed the plate between them.
“You got them,” she said.
“That was most of the invitation.”
He sat. His gaze went from the plate to her hand.
Tess saw the change. He had been smiling, ready to say something else. Now his mouth stayed slightly open and his eyes lifted to hers.
“Oh.”
She could have stopped there. She could have taken the ring off, laughed awkwardly and said it was Mara's, she had put it on for fun, what a stupid thing to do.
Instead she reached for the teapot with her left hand.
“What?”
“Are you engaged?”
There it was. The thing she had come to hear.
“Yes,” Tess said.
He leaned back. For a few seconds he said nothing at all.
It felt wonderful. She was ashamed of how wonderful. Cal had expected the woman he'd known, still available, still pleased by a cup of tea. For once he was the one discovering he had arrived too late.
“You didn't say,” he said.
“We haven't talked much.”
He nodded. “No. We haven't.”
She poured her tea. Her hand trembled slightly, but the pot was heavy enough to hide it.
“Who's he?”
Tess set the pot down.
She hadn't brought a name. A name would turn this into something she couldn't undo with one explanation. Yet she had already said yes.
“You don't know him.”
“That doesn't stop him having a name.”
She looked across the river. “I don't want to do all the questions.”
“Okay.”
He drew his coffee toward him. It wasn't the answer she had hoped for. She wanted another question, a joke with hurt underneath it, something she could enjoy later. He was letting her keep what she'd claimed.
She picked up one biscuit and broke it in two. Crumbs scattered near her phone.
“How's the new place?” she asked.
“It's all right.”
“You said small.”
“It is.”
“Have you unpacked?”
“Most of it.”
Cal looked at the ring again. Tess's tea was too hot to drink. She took a sip anyway and hurt her lip.
He leaned forward.
“Are you happy?”
This time there was no pleasure in hearing the question. His face had softened, and she didn't know how to answer him without stealing that too.
“Yes,” she said.
He looked down at his cup.
“Good.”
“You don't have to say it like that.”
“Like what?”
She wanted to say Like you mean it. Instead she put her broken biscuit on the plate.
“Nothing.”
Cal rubbed a finger along the handle of his cup. “I didn't know. Yesterday, when I asked you here.”
“I know.”
“I thought we might—” He stopped, pressed his thumb against the small white scar. “Never mind.”
Tess couldn't bear that. He had been about to offer something. She could feel it on the other side of the table, withdrawing.
“We can still have coffee.”
“You're having tea.”
“You know what I mean.”
He tried a small smile and failed at it.
“It's good to see you,” he said. “I just didn't come here for a friendly catch-up about my boxes.”
Heat rose in her face. She wanted him to finish. She wanted him to stop.
“What did you come for?”
He glanced at her hand, then looked away. “Don't.”
“I asked.”
“And you said you're happy. So that's good. Let it be good.”
Tess pushed the plate toward him. “You haven't had one.”
“I don't really want it.”
He'd always wanted them before. He had eaten the last one and pretended he didn't know she was saving it. She looked at the three biscuits, one broken, two whole, and suddenly the careful little tea seemed unbearable.
“We could walk,” she said. “When we've finished.”
He shook his head.
“Why?”
“Because I still like you, Tess.”
There was no smile with it. No invitation hidden in the words. She sat absolutely still.
“Is that what you wanted me to say?” he asked.
She didn't answer quickly enough.
Cal looked past her toward the café door. “I'm not going to sit here flirting with you while some man thinks you're going to marry him.”
“I'm not flirting.”
“All right.”
“I didn't mean—”
“I know. I'm making it awkward.”
He drank the last of his coffee. Soon she would have to pick up her bag and go back to Mara's wearing the ring, with no evening to tell her about and no way to ask for the one she'd just lost.
He reached behind him for his jacket.
“Cal.”
He stopped.
“Wait. Please.”
She covered the ring with her right hand.