I watched his taillights until they got more and more distant and then faded from view entirely. I realized, in that moment, that I hadn’t needed to destroy Bryan’s sunglasses in the Paradise parking lot. Because it was clear to me now that I’d already broken something.

Frank arrived at the car a few minutes later and unlocked the doors. I got into my passenger seat, where I wasn’t sure I’d ever sat before. I looked at him as he adjusted the seat, pushing himself back from the steering wheel, then starting my car and pulling out into the night.

“So who was that guy earlier?” Frank asked after a moment, glancing over at me. “The one you clearly wanted to get away from?”

“Gideon,” I said. “My . . . ex, I guess.” I wasn’t sure I had the right to call him that, since we’d never been official. But he was really the closest thing I had to one.

“Oh yeah?” Frank asked, looking away from the road for longer than I would have advised. But somehow, in my slightly fuzzy state, it didn’t seem to bother me that much. “What happened?”

I shrugged, really not wanting to go into the whole thing—and not only because I had behaved in a way I wasn’t proud of. “We weren’t right for each other,” I said, realizing as I said it that it was true. I took a breath. I was starting to talk again before I’d even worked out what I was going to say. “You wouldn’t do that,” I said, shaking my head. “Not without asking me.” Frank glanced over at me, baffled, but I didn’t stop to explain. “Of course you wouldn’t.” I could feel myself start to laugh at the thought of it. Frank wanting me to date someone like Sloane had was crazy, but if he did, I knew he’d be checking with me constantly, making sure I was okay with it. Frank drove me home when I had too much to drink, and scheduled horseback rides for me, and had seemed really alarmed that I’d never heard of a band called the Format, and made me a mix to correct it. He looked out for me. “But I wouldn’t do it now, either,” I said. I wouldn’t agree to it now.  The fact that I’d just let Sloane set me up with Gideon, barely asking any questions, seemed like it had happened a long time ago now.

“You know I have no idea what you’re talking about, right?” Frank asked as he made the left onto the street that would take me home.

“I know,” I said. I thought about trying to explain it to him, but then just decided to let it go. “I’m sorry about Lissa.”

Frank glanced over at me, then back at the road again. He leaned forward slightly, and moonlight from the open roof spilled across his face, lighting him up. “It was okay,” he said slowly, like he was trying out these words, in this order, for the first time. “It turned out fine. And I had a great birthday.”

“Really?” I asked, a little doubtfully, thinking of Lissa bailing, of  Wanda’s cake, of having to drive me home.

“Really,” he said firmly. “I mean, I started off the day being serenaded by donut shop employees, so it was pretty fantastic.”

“I’m still just sorry about this—making you drive me on my birthday.” He glanced over at me, one eyebrow raised, and it occurred to me after a moment this wasn’t quite right. “Your birthday,” I said, trying to get my thoughts in line. “Drive me on your birthday.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he said. “It’s the least I could do after you trekked down to New Jersey to get Lissa.”

“Not all the way,” I said. “She called me about halfway there.” Frank nodded, and I leaned back against the passenger-side door, curling my legs under me. I stretched my hand up through the open roof, feeling the warm night air rush around and through my fingers, looking up at all the stars that were visible tonight. In the dark car, with only the dashboard light, it looked like I could maybe reach them, if only I tried hard enough.

I leaned my head back against the window. My neck felt liquid and relaxed; despite what had just happened with Gideon, I was feeling somehow peaceful as I watched Frank driving me home. “You’re driving my car,” I said, shaking my head. “Nobody ever drives my car but me. It feels like I’m always driving other people around.”

“How am I doing?”

“Good,” I concluded after a moment. “It’s acceptable.”

Frank smiled at that, and when we reached my house, he pulled the car into the spot I always parked in, and as he killed the engine and handed my keys to me, it hit me that he knew where I parked my car. He knew where I lived, and didn’t need directions to bring me home.

We just sat in the car for a moment, looking ahead at my house, which was dark and quiet. Even all the cicadas seemed to have signed off for the night, and it was like the whole world was sleeping, the moon above out in full force and lighting everything up.

“Wait,” I said suddenly, turning to him.

He smiled. “I’m not going anywhere, Em.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I mean, how are you going to get home?”

“I’ll walk,” he said. “It’s not that far. I do it every day, after all.”

“But that’s during the day,” I pointed out. “It’s nighttime now. There could be vagrants. Or coyotes.”

Frank just shook his head, still smiling. “I think I’ll be okay.” He got out of the driver’s seat, and I scrambled out of the passenger side to follow him.

“Well, then I’ll walk with you,” I said, and Frank stopped in the driveway and shook his head, turning to me.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said, his voice patient. “Because then you’d have to walk back here, and I’m not letting you do that in your present state.”

“Oh my god!” I said, maybe more loudly than I should have, since it seemed particularly loud against the quiet of the night, and Frank glanced toward my sleeping house. “Present! I forgot to give it to you! Hold on.”

“Still not going anywhere,” he pointed out, and I could hear a laugh somewhere in his voice. I walked back to the car and yanked the wrapped package out from where I’d hidden it behind the front seat.

“Here,” I said, walking back to him and holding it out.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” he said, shaking his head.