Cal left his hand on the jacket.
“What?”
Tess looked at the table, at the tea she hadn't wanted enough to drink.
“There's nobody.”
He frowned.
“I'm not engaged.”
The words didn't make him smile. She had imagined that they might, despite everything. He took his hand off the jacket and put both palms flat on his knees.
“Then what are you doing?”
“Being stupid.”
“Tess.”
“I wanted you to think—” She stopped. The answer was worse than the lie, but she had asked him to stay. “I wanted you to think someone had asked me. That I wasn't just sitting here waiting.”
He looked at her for a long time.
“I didn't think you were sitting here waiting.”
“Well, I wasn't.”
“You just said—”
“I know what I said.”
He took a breath and leaned back. Tess pulled the ring toward her knuckle. It came off easily this time. She held it in her palm, small and bright, and felt ridiculous for having made it do so much.
“Whose is it?” he asked.
“Mara's.”
“Mara's engagement ring?”
She nodded.
“Did she say you could borrow it?”
“No.”
He stared at her.
“I took it out of the eggcup in her kitchen,” she said. “She puts it there when she's cooking. I was going to put it back before supper.”
“Does she know?”
“No. I didn't ask. I knew she'd say no.”
He picked up the broken biscuit, put it down again and rubbed his face.
“You could have just come.”
“I did come.”
“You know what I mean.”
Tess nodded. Her eyes were beginning to sting, which annoyed her. She wasn't the one who had been told something untrue.
She needed to put the ring somewhere. Leaving it on the table was worse than wearing it. Her phone case had no pocket, and the dress had none at all. She could drop it into the tote, but then it would be among keys and ribbon scraps and everything else.
She pulled off her cardigan. The cuff was turned back twice, making a soft fold. She slid the ring inside that fold, pressed the knit around it and tucked the sleeve inward. Then she folded the cardigan and put it on top of the things in her canvas tote. She would take it straight out in Mara's kitchen and return the ring to its cup before she touched anything else.
Cal watched her.
“I'm going back there,” she said. “At half six.”
“Okay.”
She sat with her bare forearms on the table. Her tea had cooled enough now. She drank half of it without tasting much.
“You can go,” she said.
“I know I can go.”
“I mean, I won't—” She stopped, angry with herself. Every time she tried to say something, it came out as another way to make him stay.
He picked up a whole biscuit and broke it. He kept the darker end. She noticed, and he noticed her noticing.
After a moment he put it on her side of the plate.
She took it. They ate in silence.
The river smelled faintly muddy. A loose edge of the café awning tapped against its pole. Tess watched Cal's hand around his cup and wished she could have this much of him without being quite so ashamed.
“I liked seeing you yesterday,” he said.
“So did I.”
“I know. You stayed after your bus.”
“It wasn't my bus.”
“You said it probably was.”
She looked at him. He was smiling, a little, but he didn't seem pleased with himself for catching her.
“I couldn't think of what to say,” she admitted.
“You usually think of plenty.”
“Apparently not now.”
He moved the plate so she could take the last biscuit. She broke it and gave him half.
“Do you remember that shop with the terrible mirrors?” he asked.
“Which terrible mirrors?”
“When we went to buy you a coat. You put on that enormous thing, with the hood.”
Tess did remember. She had come out of the changing room bent nearly double under a coat too large for her, pretending to be unable to find her arms. Cal had laughed, then bought nothing because they'd forgotten what they were looking for.
“You said it suited me.”
“It did. You could have carried your shopping inside it.”
“You wouldn't stop laughing.”
“You wouldn't take it off.”
She smiled despite herself.
Cal's expression changed as he watched her. “That's what I missed. Going somewhere with you and it turning into something else.”
She pressed a crumb against the plate with one finger.
“You didn't say.”
“No.”
“You didn't say much of anything.”
He looked down. “I know.”
The answer was small. She wanted more, but not here, not with the tea nearly gone and her stolen ring in the bag between her feet. She was tired of hearing herself make this harder. She wanted to get up and move beside him.
“Would you still walk?” she asked.
He lifted his eyes.
“I'm not asking because you said you liked me.” That was another lie, though only a tiny, useless one. She shook her head. “Yes, I am. I want to walk with you.”
“Okay.”
“You don't have to look so surprised.”
He laughed, once. “You're giving me a lot to keep up with.”
She picked up her tote. As they left the table she checked that the folded cardigan was still at the top, then drew the handles together.
They walked along the river without touching. There were enough people coming toward them that sometimes they had to go single file. Tess kept expecting Cal to fall into step ahead of her and stay there, but each time the path widened he moved back beside her.
At the second bridge along the walk he stopped to look over the railing. Tess stopped too.
“Still haven't learned to tell the ducks apart,” he said.
“You don't need to. They aren't expecting it.”
He pointed at a larger dark bird standing on a stone.
“That isn't one.”
“No.”
“What's that, then?”
“I don't know.”
He looked at her. “You used to sound very certain.”
“I used to make it up.”
They watched the bird dip its head. A smaller one came swimming toward it, and it opened its wings to drive it off. Tess frowned at it, offended on behalf of the visitor.
Cal's shoulder touched hers.
He didn't move away immediately. Neither did she.
They walked on. In a narrow patch Tess caught his sleeve to avoid stepping into a puddle. She could have let go once they were past it. Instead her hand slipped down to his.
He looked at their fingers and closed his around them.
Warmth went through her so quickly she nearly laughed. She had forgotten how simple this part could be. A hand offered, held. No one else needed to see it.
“Is this all right?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He said it softly, more to himself than to her. She squeezed his fingers.
They reached a bench that faced away from the café. Cal sat at one end, leaving room. Tess sat beside him rather than at the other end. Their hands rested between them.
She could feel her pulse in the fingers he was holding.
“I was angry with you,” she said.
“At the café?”
“Before.”
“I know.”
“I don't think you know all of it.”
“Probably not.”
She looked at his face. His hair was a little shorter. There was a faint line beside his mouth that she didn't remember, or hadn't noticed before. She wanted to touch that too.
“I'm still a bit angry,” she said.
“Right.”
But he hadn't let go of her hand, and she didn't want him to.
“You can still sit here,” she said.
Cal turned toward her. She lifted her free hand to his cheek before she could decide that it was too much. He leaned into her palm.
Then he kissed her.
It was brief at first. A question she could answer without trying to make herself sound careless. Tess answered by moving closer, by putting her hand at the back of his neck, by kissing him again before he had drawn fully away.
His hand came to her waist. For a little while there was only the warm pressure of his mouth and the rough cloth of the bench under her other palm. He made a quiet sound when she pulled him close, and she liked it so much that she did it again.
When they stopped, he was smiling against her cheek.
“Hello,” he said.
She laughed, breathless. “You've said that.”
“Not properly.”
She rested her forehead against his for a second. Then she kissed the corner of his mouth.
They stayed on the bench until the sun moved behind the buildings. Tess told him about the sauce test, including the crisp Mara had nearly put whole into her mouth. Cal told her about the cupboard door in his new flat that fell open if he put bread on the wrong shelf. Neither story mattered much. She wanted to keep hearing him.
At six she checked her phone.
“I need to go.”
He glanced at the screen, then nodded. “Supper.”
“And cards. Ribbons. Things.”
She didn't want to stand up. He did it first and held out his hand, but when she took it he pulled her toward him instead of straight onto her feet.
They kissed once more, with her laughing at the awkward angle.
“Come on,” she said. “I'll be late.”
He walked with her to the turning for Mara's street. There she let go of his hand to lift the tote higher on her shoulder.
“Can I see you again?” he asked.
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Let me ask what Mara needs. I'll tell you tonight.”
He nodded. “Tonight, then.”
She wanted him to kiss her at the corner. She waited, and he did.
By the time she climbed Mara's stairs she was smiling. At the door she slid a hand into the tote and felt the folded green knit. First the ring, she reminded herself. Straight back in the cup.
From inside came the smell of supper and Ben's voice asking where something should go.
Tess rang the bell.