“Pretty much.”

“That might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Also true.”

We sat quietly for a moment.

Then something occurred to me.

“Jeffrey.”

“What?”

“I’m sixty.”

His eyes widened.

Then slowly, he smiled.

“So you are.”

“We had a deal.”

Jeffrey lifted his hand.

His fingers were trembling.

“If we’re both single at sixty…”

I wrapped my pinky around his.

“We stop being idiots and find each other.”

Tears ran down his face.

“Still single?”

“Yes.”

“Me too.”

My eyes moved toward the ring.

—

I stayed beside Jeffrey through the following day.

We talked for hours.

More than I thought two people possibly could.

He told me about Peter and his daughter, Anna.

I told him about my students and the decades I had spent teaching.

We talked about Margaret.

My mother.

My father.

Even the mistakes all of us had made.

I was angry with Dad.