He sat across the table from her in the diner. Two cups of coffee steamed between them, un-touched. She looked down at the table and licked her lips.
“It’s . . . good to see you again,” she said.
“You too,” he replied.
May was overweight. Fat, in fact, she’d put on fifty pounds since he’d last seen her. But her hair was long, and rich and healthy, tumbling about in auburn waves. Her eyes were still a glacial blue. She glanced up at him and brushed her thick hair back over her shoulder. She licked her lips again. Reaching down, she pulled the heavy knit sweater down over her mom jeans and swallowed.
“Thanks. It’s been a long time.”
“So,” she said, licking her lips. “You still married?”
“Yep,” he grinned, “25 years this year, with a five-year engagement at the beginning, we’ve been together 30 years.”
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. She sighed.
“Happy?”
“Mostly. Nothing’s perfect. I understand you’re married, too.”
She swallowed. “Eight years. We, um, we have one daughter.”
He raised an eyebrow.