Page 102 of At the Heart of It
“Breastbone,” he said, tapping his knuckles against his own sternum. “I tried to convince her to kiss my uvula.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Kate said. “My anatomy knowledge is a little rusty.”
“The little dangly part at the back of the throat.”
“Ick.”
Jonah laughed and scooped up a spoonful of chili. “We settled for a peck on the ulna,” he said. “That’s the bone in the forearm.”
“Sounds like you had fun together,” Kate said. There was a wistfulness in her tone. “Why didn’t you include that in the book?”
“I didn’t want to,” he said. “I liked the idea of holding a few things back. Keeping some things private, just the two of us.”
“That sounds like real intimacy.”
“I suppose so,” he said.
“Do you miss it?”
He noticed she said it, not her, and he sensed it was a deliberate choice. That it was the latter she really wanted to ask about. “I miss intimacy sometimes,” he said. “Having someone to curl up with in bed at night, talking until we both fall asleep.”
She looked at him oddly. “So what if you could have that again? If you could have it all back?”
“I will. Someday, I mean.”
Kate swirled a hunk of bread in her bowl and didn’t meet his eyes. “With Viv?”
“Christ, no!” That came out a little harsher than he meant it to, and Kate gave him a startled look. Reminding himself to tread carefully, Jonah dialed it back a notch. “She’s a terrific person, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure she’ll find someone else someday. Someone who’s not me.”
“Oh.” Kate took a sip of beer, making it tough for him to read her expression. “I guess that’s—good. For both of you. Right?”
He picked up a piece of cornbread and studied her face. “Why do you keep asking about that?”
“About what?”
“About Viv and me? About whether there’s any chance we’d ever rekindle things?”
“No reason.” She held his gaze, but something in it seemed off. He wasn’t sure what, but he had a sense she was hiding something.
“As a TV producer, I’m supposed to ferret out the stories,” she added.
“There’s no story there.”
“Still. I’m supposed to ask tough questions.”
“That’s not a very tough one. Try again.”
“What?”
“I mean asking whether I’d ever get back with Viv is like asking whether I think I’ll ever give up the bookstore and join the circus. Did I mention I hate clowns?”
She smiled a little at that and took a sip of beer. “So what’s an actual tough question?”
“Something important. Something thought-provoking.”
Kate dabbed a cornbread crumb off the edge of her plate and licked it off her finger. “Example?”
He thought about it. “Like if I had to drink eight ounces of someone else’s saliva, whose saliva would I choose?”
