Kit grimaces. “Maybe I don’t like talking about myself either.”

“Hmmm,” I say, grinning. “What ever will we do?”

He jumps down from his perch. “Go for a walk,” he says.

I look back toward their room. “Okay. Should we leave a note?”

“Did she take her sleeping pill?”

I nod.

“She’ll be out ‘til morning then.”

I follow him out the door and down the drive. I try to predict which way he’ll turn down the street, and I get it wrong. The air smells slightly of the ocean, and gasoline from the highway. It’s the smell of escape and freedom. I wonder if Kit notices, and if it makes him want to jump in his truck and drive, drive, drive away from perfection.

“Kit,” I say. “Are you in love?”

He grimaces. “Why do you ask me that every time we go on a walk?”

“Why do you never answer the question?”

“It’s uncomfortable,” he says. “And none of your business.”

I laugh. “Fair enough, Kit Kat.”

Kit sighs. “Please don’t make me relive high school.”

People called him Kit Kat in high school. That’s cute. I wonder what he was like.

When I think he’s not going to answer my question, he does. “I want to be, Helena. I’ve tried.”

I know he’s shared something incredibly personal with me so I try not to react. I want to grab him by the lapels and scream, “WHAT THE HELL?!” and “That’s my best friend’s heart you’re messing with!”

Instead, I clear my throat. “Oh yeah? You almost became a dad, Kit. That’s a scary life cocktail you’re mixing.” He’s quiet for a long time.

“You’ve been friends with Della for years, Helena. You know how she is. There have been a couple of times when we’ve come close to ending things. She … threatens herself.”

I am surprised. I am. I’ve never known Della to use suicide to make a guy stay. I’ve also never known Della to try to get pregnant. People change I guess.

“I don’t know what to say, Kit. I’m not sure that’s a good reason to stay, though. Sounds pretty unhealthy.”

“I care about her. So much.”

“I think you really, really need to love someone to have a baby with them. And even then, sometimes couples don’t make it.”

“Why are you talking in that weird voice?” He’s looking at me sideways, and I get swirly whirlies in my belly.

“It happens when I’m nervous.”

“You sound like Yogi Bear.”

I throw my hands up in the air. “Oh my God, I’m never going on a walk with you again.”

“Yeah, yeah Yogi.”

“Every house in this place looks the same,” I say, trying to change the subject. “It’s sort of nauseating.”

Kit laughs. “My house is different,” he says. “Della made sure no one has shutters the same color as we do.”

“You’re right. You have the best shutters.” And then at the same time we both say, “Aubergine,” and start to laugh. She couldn’t call them purple, or violet, or anything simple. Della liked for her things to sound as fancy as possible, and aubergine was the very fanciest way to say purple.

“One more question,” I say. Kit groans.

“How do you know, and I mean really know, when you’re in love with someone?”

We are standing by the little retention pond that all of the houses in the development are built around. I can see the backs of all of them, facing the pond with glowing windows. While I peek in people’s windows, Kit bends to pick up a rock, and skips it across the water. One … two … three … four. I count his skips, impressed.

“It all feels like a dream,” he says.

“A dream,” I repeat. Ain’t he right.

“It’s weird. You and Kit.”

“Huh?”

Della is holding a dress up to herself in front of the mirror in Nordstrom, yet her eyes are not on her own reflection, but on mine.

I play it cool and push hangers aside, study ugly shirts, and avoid meeting her eyes. Why are we here again? Oh, because she wanted to come.

“You guys seem close. Probably closer than you and I have been in a while.” She looks at the dress, tilts her head to the side, and purses her lips.

“We get along pretty well.” I shrug. “Where is this coming from?”

She suddenly looks guilty. “Nowhere. It’s stupid. I’ve become this jealous monster. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. It’s more intense, you know?”

I don’t know. I’m not the jealous type.

I shake my head at her. “You always want me to be friends with your boyfriends. You’ve shoved them on me in the past. Now you have a problem with it?”

She chews on her lip. Big, fat lips that match her big, fat eyes.

“I told you. It’s different with Kit. And … he likes you. He’s always talking about you.”

I try to be cool, but I knock over a display of bracelets. “Shit. Oops.”

Della bends down to help me pick them up, glancing up at me nervously every few seconds.

“Don’t be mad, okay? I’m just being stupid.”

I am mad. But at myself. How bad is it that Della is noticing something off? I have to lay off, leave Kit alone.

“You’re not stupid,” I say. “You’re in love. Besides, what is there to say about me? I’m boring.”

“That’s not true. I like you, don’t I?”

I don’t answer. Della likes people who cater to her. I’m a professional caterer. It doesn’t make me feel used, just needed.

“He just always wants you around. He shares his stories with you and not with me. And you guys always seem to have an inside joke, you know?”

“Don’t you have inside jokes together?”

Her brows draw together. “Not really. I don’t think he thinks I’m very funny.”

“He thinks you’re kind,” I say. And then I tell her the nice things Kit said about her.

“And honestly, Della, I think he’s laughing at me not with me. I’m only funny because I’m awkward.”

“That’s true.” She nods. “You are very awkward.”