Page 46 of Love Out Loud

“Twenty-nine?” I ask.

She smiles, appeased. “Good man.”

I drag the picnic basket in front of me to hide what her praise does below my waist under the guise of unloading more stuff.

We eat and chat as we wait for the show to start, and it’s so easy. Everything with her is refreshingly simple. Even wanting her has been effortless, if not uncomplicated. But being here with her tonight, lying on a blanket in the grass snacking on almonds and cheese, laughing and joking like old times…it’s perfect.

And when the show starts, we settle in to enjoy it, though I probably spend more time watching her than the stage. When Helena enters, Lark lights up. She doesn’t recite the lines, but her lips move almost imperceptibly in time with Helena’s words.

Toward the end of the fifth act, I slide a packet of tissues next to her hand. She glances at it, then looks at me, her brow furrowed.

“You always cry at live theater,” I whisper.

“It’s a comedy,” she murmurs back.

“Doesn’t matter.” I flash a knowing grin.

And sure enough, when Puck starts his epilogue with “If we shadows have offended…” Lark sniffles and takes a tissue from my hand.

“It was just so beautiful,” she says, gazing longingly at the stage as the actors take their bows.

“I know,” I reply. But I’m not looking at the stage.

I’m looking at her.