“I’d like that,” she said instead.

I made it home just as London was getting ready for bed, and as usual Vivian and I slipped into our familiar roles. She read first, and then I went up to read to London. London chattered on about her day – in addition to art class and Discovery Place, they’d gone to the mall – and by the time I turned out the light, Vivian was already in the guest room with the door closed.

I knocked on the door and heard her voice from the other side.

“Yes?”

“I’m going out for a little bit. I just wanted to let you know, in case London wakes up. I should be back before eleven.”

I could almost hear her asking Where are you going? in the silence that followed.

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Emily had left a note tacked to the door, inviting me in and directing me to the back porch.

I moved quietly through the house, trying not to wake Bodhi. I felt a little like a teenager trying to sneak past my parents, and wondered if the child inside us ever truly left any of us.

Emily was barefoot tonight, in jeans and a red blouse, with her long legs propped against a low bench that lined the porch; a chair had been placed next to her. On the porch table stood an open bottle of wine and an empty glass; she held a half-full glass in her own hand.

“Perfect timing,” she said. “I just checked on Bodhi and he’s sound asleep.”

“London, too.”

“I got started without you,” she said, raising her own glass. “Help yourself.”

I poured and sat next to her. “Thanks for having me over.”

“When a friend says he has to hide, my door is open. How is it really, though?”

I considered the question before answering. “We haven’t fought, but we haven’t seen much of each other, either. It’s strange, though. It feels like there’s this awkward heaviness in the house.”

“Emotions are heavy things,” she said. “And it’s still early for both of you. How was London when you read to her?”

“She was fine. They had a good day.”

“Do you think she knows what’s going on yet?”

“I think she knows there’s something different, but that’s it.”

“That’s probably a good thing for now. It’s hard enough to get through this stage without worrying about your child as well.”

I nodded, knowing she was right.

“Do you sit out here a lot?”

“Less than I should – sometimes I forget how pretty it is. I love seeing the stars between all the trees, and the sound of crickets.” She shook her head. “I don’t know… I guess I just get stuck in my routines. Which is why I still haven’t gotten around to listing the house yet. I get lazy.”

“I don’t think you’re lazy. We’re just creatures of habit.” I took a sip of wine, letting a comfortable silence settle between us. Finally, I said, “I feel like I should thank you.”

“Why?” I felt her turn toward me, her eyes seeking me out in the darkness.

“For letting me come over. For talking to me on the phone. For the advice you give. For putting up with my confusion and whining. Everything.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“Emily, we’re old friends,” I said. “But it’s been a long time and it’s not like we’ve been close these past fifteen years. Somehow, though, in just a short time, you’ve become one of my best friends – again.”

I could see the starlight flickering in her eyes. “I read something about friendship once and it stuck with me. It goes like this: Friendship isn’t about how long you know someone. It’s about who walks into your life, says ‘I’m here for you,’ and then proves it.”

I smiled. “I like that.”

“Russ, you sound like you think you’re a burden to me. But you’re not. Believe it or not, I like talking to you. And I like that we’ve rekindled our friendship. Aside from Grace and Marguerite, it’s just Bodhi and me. And, I don’t know… there’s something so comforting about our shorthand. Not having to explain everything about who we are and where we come from. We know all that stuff already.”

“Guess I’m like an old shoe, huh?”

She laughed. “A favorite shoe… maybe. One that always fit just right and you were never able to replace.”

I felt a genuine warmth flowing from her then, and it was such a reassuring sensation – one that I had missed, I realized, in all these uncertain years with Vivian.

“I feel the same, way, Em.” I stared at her. “I really do.”

She was quiet for a moment, rotating the glass of wine in her hands. “Do you remember than night when we got stuck on the Ferris wheel? The night of the fireworks?”

“I remember,” I said.

“I thought you were going to propose to me that night,” she said softly. “And when you didn’t, I was so… disappointed.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it.

“Don’t be – it’s silly.” She waved my apology away. “The point I’m trying to make is that I would have said yes and maybe we would have gotten married. But that also means I wouldn’t have Bodhi and you wouldn’t have London, and then who would we be? Maybe we would have ended up getting divorced. Or hate each other now.”