Page 41 of Lost and Found

But to think she’s angry at me for this? For wanting something her sister wanted?

I’m distracted by the anger pulling atmewhen I think of it.

“—thought about getting naked and painting my whole body green. Channeling Shrek in an interpretive dance. Probably set it to Dave Matthews, right? It’s usually Dave Matthews. Hootie & the Blowfish could be interesting” blows through the fog clouding my mind.

“What?!” I squawk at Silas.

“About time. I was running out of ideas.” He lifts the wine bottle on the table between us and tips it in offering.

“What could you have possibly been brainstorming?” I ask, then nod at the wine. I texted the after-hours number Francine gave me to make sure it was okay. “Sure, I’ll take some more.”

“A wedding gift for Sage and Fisher,” he says. He refills my plastic cup before replenishing his own, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a plate of food balanced on a thigh.

“Just what all newlyweds need,” I say, “trauma. Also, if you’re already in that vein as far as the music goes, the only correct song to set that to would be something off the soundtrack. Counting Crows? Smash Mouth?”

He smiles genially, shoveling some salad into his face. Peaches and burrata over arugula, drizzled with a balsamic vinaigrette. I might’ve been lost in the swirl of my own thoughts, but I surfaced enough to be impressed with everything he’d packed.

The sun has dipped below the edge of the horizon, but there’s still too much light left in the sky for many stars to shine through. We won’t be able to get the best views until after midnight, anyway, so Silas had the forethought to throw a couple of roll-out mattress pads and sleeping bags in case I need to get a few hours of sleep beforehand.

“Love that you’ve got theShreksoundtrack memorized. You’re so smart, Ruby,” he says.

“Aw. And you’re so pretty, Si.” He’s as sharp as a tack, too, and we both know it.

He smiles with all his teeth and goes back to his salad. “So, what’s up? What’s on your mind? You’ve been far away.”

“IVF,” I say. Which is vague, but true, even if it’s also burying the lede. I think I’ve still got a few tender spots when it comes to worrying over other people’s opinions on what I’m doing, though, and sharing more of their objections feels like it might give them legitimacy.

“I know the basics, but tell me the details of it,” he says. “IVF. How it all works.”

“It’s a whole lot of womanly stuff, Silas,” I tell him, chuckling wryly. “And hormones.”

“I love womanly stuff,” he says. “I love women. Huge fan of their hormones. They’ve been very kind to me in the past.”

Telling him about it effectively distracts me from my distraction. He’s undeniably fascinated by the process, asking pertinent questions at every turn. Especially when it comes to the timing aspect, he’s an avid listener.

“Have you seenThe Martian?” he asks, his head turning my way. He’s all blues in the darker light now, but I can still make out the contours of the moonlit half of his face. The glimmer of his eyes and the hollows of his dimples. “As in the movie.”

“Is there one who walks among us? And no, I haven’t seen it.”

“I’ve got a few suspicions,” he says. “We should watch it soon.” The flash of his smile. And I love how we can do that. Juggle two conversations at once.

“Space terrifies me.”

His eyes round. “You’re kidding.You?” he says. “Why didn’t you say anything? We’re here trying to see something in space.”

I nod, laughing sleepily. “It’s not the same. My feet are still indirectly connected to the earth. If I jump, I’ll come back down, you know? It’s when I try to conceptualize beinginit. All that vast nothingness, without any control, it’s . . . it’s beyond my comprehension. Even the rules of physics are different upthere,” I say. “I sawGravityin the theater and projectile-vomited blue Slurpee.” I shiver all over just thinking about it again.

Silas deftly passes me a blanket. “Okay then, forget that, we won’t watch it. The book is better, anyway. My point is, there’s this one part when Matt Damon is spinning around in space, right? So, he has to be rescued. Has to puncture the hand in his suit to create air thrusts, then whirl himself through the air, catch himself in this gold ribbon thing, then be caught by another astronaut, and it’s like—like a million things all need to go exactly right, simultaneously, all for one moment to work. All to be taken back into his ship.” His eyes are alight. “Everything you just described reminded me of that.”

And yet, despite using my biggest phobia as the stage for this metaphor, and despite how daunting it sounds, the way he’s described this makes it sound miraculous, too. A feat of impressive, complicated science,andwondrous. Beautiful, even.

Babies are made in all sorts of ways. Mine, I hope, will be made out of miraculous scienceandenduring love. And that’s enough for me to stop worrying about Devin for the time being.

Silas clears our debris and takes the empty bottle of wine to the parking lot can, and we finish our meal with chocolate chip cookies from the container he packed. I’m not sure how long we sit there, listening to the waves sigh and crash, but eventually, my head gets heavy against the back of my chair, and my eyes flutter closed.

“Here,” Silas says, deep voice ricocheting around the metal shell. “Lie down and rest. I’ll wake you up when it’s time. I’ve got an alarm in case I drift off, too.”

We fold up the chairs and settle into our separate pads. And I know I’m already living in the man’s house, but there is something so intimate about watching him toe off his boots andshimmy himself into his sleeping bag that I force myself to look away. It feels too big in its mundanity.