Page 9 of Heart

“And to think, I was getting ready to ask you out.”

“I thought that might be where you were going.”

“I’m such a doof.”

“No, you’re not. And please don’t feel bad. It’s me. I’m just not ready yet. My friend, May—you know her from next door—she wants me back in the ballgame more than anyone. I’m just not feeling it. I’m wondering if I ever will. Something in me died with David and I’m—”

Not sure why I’m telling you all this.

“—telling you because... you have kind eyes too.”

“Everyone deserves to be happy, George. You’ll get there.”

“Hope so.”

“You could do like me and try one of those dating apps. Some of those profile pics leave little to the imagination. Might stir up your curiosity—partof you at least.” He winked.

“Maybe. I’ll consider it.”

“I useGrowlr, being a big guy and all.”

“There are so many outlets now. David and I were together before any of that stuff was popular. I’m clueless. But, if I ever decide to get my feet wet—”

“OH!” Mikey interrupted. “That’s why. That’s why the restaurant is called David’s. It’s named after—”

“—my husband.Deceasedhusband. I know. It’s morbid, isn’t it?”

“No,” Mikey said. “Not at all. I get it now. It’s a tribute.”

“Yeah... and a step, at least, in what I hope is the right direction.”

“Who knows, maybe—like my singing—it’ll help shake your blues away?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Good luck with it, George.”

“Thanks, Mikey. I’m glad you stopped by today.”

“Me too. Give me your phone.”

George reached into his pocket, put in the passcode, and handed it over. Mikey rapidly tapped with both thumbs.

“There. You have my number—if you’re ever looking for a parcel in the mail, text me. Also, if you need any help getting this place together, I’d be happy to lend a hand. I can’t cook worth a damn, but I can hammer a nail or two.”

“I might take you up on that.”

“I hope you do. I’m off Sundays and Wednesdays. But give me a little notice. I’m in Baltimore.”

“Let me guess—Little Italy?”

He grinned, cheeks dimpling. “Born and bred. I live with my mother and sister. I take care of them. My ma’s a good cook too, promise. My sister... well, we won’t talk about her.”

“Fair enough. Oh, before you leave, I have something for you.”

George crossed the room and went back behind the bar. He sensed Mikey’s eyes on him and he felt a bit self-conscious of his well-earned dad bod. When he returned, Mikey was smiling innocently and George held out a fist. Mikey opened his own hand under it and George dropped a fortune cookie into the cup of his palm, the cellophane crinkling lightly.

“I found it before you came in. Now I know it belongs to you.”