Cal was waiting by the little lake with two tickets pinched between his fingers.
“Pedal boat,” he said.
Tess stopped. “You already bought them?”
“I asked you this morning.”
“You asked if I wanted to go out.”
He looked at the tickets. “Right.”
She was still holding the pleasant afternoon with Mara inside her, warm enough to make her braver than she had felt on the bus.
“I'll go,” she said. “But if we sink, you tell them it was your idea.”
He smiled. They walked down to the landing stage.
The boat was yellow and wet in all the places Tess needed to put her hands. Cal climbed in first, and it tilted sharply. She stepped back.
“Wait.”
“I'm sitting.”
“You're moving.”
“I have to move to sit.”
She took his hand. He held it firmly while she lowered herself, her tote pressed against her chest. When she was seated, he let go and grinned at her.
“See?”
“You could have said it did that.”
“Would you have got in?”
“Probably not.”
They started badly. Tess pushed too quickly; Cal pushed too slowly. The boat turned toward the bank.
“Other way,” she said.
He adjusted the little steering handle. They turned in a wide circle and headed back toward the landing stage.
Tess laughed. She couldn't help it. Cal looked at the handle as if it had betrayed him.
“Give it here,” she said.
“One second.”
He tried again. This time they went straight enough to leave the shore behind. The water made a small slap against the plastic hull. Tess let the bag down by her feet.
“I liked your supper,” she said.
He glanced at her. “Most of it's still in the fridge.”
“I mean it. Before.”
“Thanks.”
He was pedalling faster now. Tess matched him. The work felt good after the small careful tasks at Mara's kitchen table.
“I shouldn't have called Ben,” he said.
“No.”
“I thought if I sorted one thing we could have the evening.”
She looked over at him.
“You could have put your phone down,” she said.
“So could you.”
She couldn't honestly argue with that. She pushed the pedals harder.
For a while they worked together. Near the far bank Cal slowed so they could look into the reeds. Tess spotted a nest and touched his arm. He leaned closer, squinting in the direction she pointed.
“Where?”
“Just there. Under the bent one.”
“Oh. Yes.”
Their shoulders pressed together. She turned her face toward him, and he kissed her quickly, with a hand on the back of her seat.
She wanted another. Instead the boat drifted into the reeds, and Cal had to reach for the steering handle.
“You've ruined my excellent navigation,” he said.
“You were about to hit it anyway.”
He laughed. They pedalled back into open water, a reed trailing over the side.
Tess could see the landing stage and the path where people were strolling. None of them knew what she had done on Thursday. To them she and Cal were two people in a yellow boat, enjoying Sunday. She wanted that picture to be true for longer than half an hour.
“Will you come to the wedding?” she asked.
Cal kept looking ahead. “Has the date changed?”
“It might be Monday now. Mara said there's room for you at lunch.”
“Might be?”
“They're deciding.”
“Then let them decide.”
“I can ask you now.”
He stopped pedalling. The boat slowed, then turned a little as Tess's feet kept going.
“Do you want me to help with something?”
“No. I want you to come with me.”
She said it plainly enough. For a second she was pleased with herself.
Then Cal rubbed his cheek and looked at the water.
“Tess, we've had one good afternoon and one terrible supper.”
“We've known each other longer than that.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted to see me again.”
“I do want to see you again. I'm seeing you now.”
She took her feet off the pedals. The boat drifted.
“It's one day,” she said.
“Is it? Or do you want to walk in with me so everybody can see?”
The words hurt because she could see exactly how good it would feel. She had pictured his hand on her back, Mara looking at them, the chair beside hers no longer empty.
“You make it sound nasty,” she said.
“I didn't mean nasty.”
“You said it.”
He looked down at his knees. “I don't want to be dragged out to prove something.”
“Dragged?”
“That came out wrong.”
Tess stared at the reeds still hooked over the side of the boat. She pulled one free and dropped it back in the water.
“Remember my birthday?” she asked.
Cal closed his eyes briefly. “Which bit?”
“The year I booked dinner and you came for a drink first. Forty minutes. Then you went to meet the people you already saw every week.”
“You told me the dinner didn't matter.”
“I'd booked it.”
“You said you could cancel.”
“Because you were putting your jacket on.”
He looked at her then. Tess turned away. She could still see that jacket being lifted from the chair, could feel herself smiling and saying it was fine so he wouldn't know how little she had wanted to cancel.
“I asked for a day with you,” she said. “And you've made me feel stupid for asking.”
He put his feet back on the pedals.
“I'm not saying I never want to come.”
“You're saying not yet.”
“Yes. Not yet.”
She nodded and began pedalling too. They didn't say anything for the last few minutes. Cal steered correctly. Tess kept her eyes on the landing stage.
When they reached it, he got out first and held the boat steady. She took his hand because she needed it. On the path she let go.
The afternoon was still bright. They had planned to walk around the lake afterward, perhaps buy something cold to eat. Tess looked toward the path, then back toward the road.
“I'll take you home,” Cal said.
“I can get the bus.”
“I know. Let me.”
She was tired enough to agree. They walked to the car with a gap between them, and Tess carried the tote herself.