After taking a brief taste of her, I whisper, “I think you know that those girls don’t exist.”

She bumps hips with me, grinning briefly. Then, eyes on the dog as he trots ahead of us, she sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t get why he doesn’t even greet me.”

“He’s figured out that I don’t need him around you, so he checks out. I even found him playing with the sheep the other day.”

She looks down at him, her brow furrowed. “What would he do if I initiated contact?”

I shrug. “Let’s find out.”

After I call Gomer back, Diane squats down and holds out the back of her hand for him to sniff. After a nod from me, he bumps his nose under her hand, and she follows the prompt to stroke the top of his head. After she’s done that a few times, he rolls onto his back, tongue lolling, and barks.

Diane laughs as she rubs his chest. “He’s pretty good at asking for what he wants.”

“He could teach us all a few lessons, for sure.”

After a good rub down, Gomer flips back over and shakes himself before ambling toward the house again.

I help Diane up from the ground. “You believe me?”

“I don’t know much about dogs, but I guess it makes sense.”

My belly’s a little skittery from the sugar in the ice cream or from opening up my brain to Diane, or both, so I change the subject. “Hey, did you hear anything from the realtor today? About the orchard?”

“She hasn’t called me back. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Do you think you’d try to buy it if it becomes available again?” The orchard is about a half an hour south of Fork Lick, which is another half an hour south of Climax, where my new apartment is. But if she settled there, we could still see each other.

“I don’t know. All of my best childhood memories took place there.” Sticking her hands in the back pockets of her shorts and kicking at the dirt as she walks, she suddenly looks like a little kid. A lonely one. “Unlike the rest of my family, I hated living in the city.”

I basically know nothing about her past beyond the fact that she went to the same college as my sister. Except for the memories she shared in the orchard she’s never said anything about her family or where she grew up. To be fair, nearly all of our time together the past week has been naked and between the sheets. Or going head-to-head at trivia.

We’ve just barely scratched the surface, but I’ve never felt so close to anyone in my life.

I already asked for more, but she put me off. If I do it again, it might push her right out the door. And there’s this neurodivergent thing. What if she decides I’m more trouble than I’m worth, like every other woman has?

Thing is, without any good reason to, a tiny seed of hope has planted itself in my heart. One that says a diagnosis that leads to therapy could be a good thing, make me easier to live with or, at the very least, more comfortable in my own skin. And then there’s what I’m learning from Carlos. Maybe, just maybe, if I just listen, without making any of my own demands, I can find a way to get her to stick around.

CHAPTER 20DIANE

It’s ridiculous how much I miss Sam when he moves out, but it’s probably for the best. Not that I do what I really should and leave town, however. Telling myself that I have to stick around for one last chance to win trivia night with the Geezers, I spend two days running all over Fork Lick shooting background footage to cover the bases when I do the final edits.

Unfortunately, from the roadside stand selling locally made preserves to a tractor scaling a hill at sunrise, everything my camera records just makes me want to stay. Even Baabara stopping traffic when she escapes from her pen tugs at my heart.

Tuesday night, when I join the Geezers at their usual table and let them know Colleen won’t be joining us, Big John frowns. “Who’s going to answer all the pop music questions?”

“Yeah. And the Disney crap,” Little John adds.

I wince. “Sorry guys. I’ve got you on literature and history but⁠—”

Just then the door opens, letting in a gust of cold air, as well as the man never far from my thoughts. “Don’t worry guys. I’ve got it.”

Rushing to meet him, it takes everything in me to keep my hands to myself. “Want to be on my team?”

Shucking his jacket, he tips his head to the side, grinning. “Do you want me for my pop culture knowledge or… did you miss me?”

“Both,” I say, unable to keep a silly grin off my face. “Colleen’s not here, so we need you.”

“Then I’m all yours.”

When we show up to the table, Tall Paul scowls. “What good is this guy? We need Colleen.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Sam says, hand over his heart. “As her twin, I was forced to watch every Disney movie and Nickelodeon show and memorize the words to every girl anthem right alongside her.”

“He doesn’t listen to country in his truck.” Lowering my voice, I add, “He listens to top forty instead.”

Small Paul shudders. “Top forty?”

Big John slaps the table. “You’re in.”

Sam is as good as his word, and we smash the Quick Picks. Even better, he never stops touching me the entire night. Whether it’s an arm across the back of my chair, his fingers playing with my hair, a squeeze of my hand when he gets excited about knowing an answer, or a full-on kiss to the mouth, I have to stop myself from climbing in his lap so I can feel even more of him.

Buzzing with giddiness and humming “New Romantics”—Sam’s encyclopedic knowledge of Swift lyrics never ceases to amaze me—I don’t even notice another human in the bathroom until I step out of the stall and up to the sink to wash my hands. Not until Ginny hands me a paper towel.

“Oh, hi, Ginny. And uh, thanks.” After drying my hands, I throw the balled-up paper away before turning back to her. “Good game tonight.”

She just rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her sparkly shirt. “I may be just a dumb hick who works at the Quick Lick, but I know fashion, Didi Mayer.”

“Wh-what did you say?”

“I knew it.” Her smile is so slow and smug, I almost expect her to twirl a mustache. “Your name isn’t really Diane McCarthy.”

“How? I mean⁠—”

“Come on. Nobody actually from this part of New York wears Fendi t-shirts and Vivienne Westwood jeans. We couldn’t even afford J. Crew or Madewell.” She rolls her eyes. “Like they carry those lines at Walmart. Uh-uh, only big city transplants drop cash on clothes the way you obviously have. I took one look at you and I knew: You’re trying to fit in somewhere you don’t belong. What I couldn’t figure out is why you’d want to.” Tapping her chin, she begins to pace the small space between the sinks and stalls. “Then I noticed that your face never shows up in your videos, which made me wonder, is she hiding something? Or from someone?”

She spins to face me and stops to wag a finger back and forth. “Too bad for you, I have a vested interest in finding out and a whole lotta time on my hands. Hardly anybody shops at the Quick Lick anymore, not since the damn Amazon fulfillment center opened up in Coxsackie and you can overnight anything you need. So I have plenty of time to search on the internet, and looky what I found.”

Like a detective in a cheesy movie, she whips out what looks like a Xerox of a newspaper photo and gazes back and forth between it and me.

“Didi and Hermann Mayer, Jr. Mm-mm-mmm.” She peruses the picture as she hums. “I still don’t know why you changed your name. Maybe you’re running from a messed-up marriage to this Hermann guy, but it won’t be long until I find out. And believe you me, whatever I dig up, I’ll tell the entire Bedd family, starting with your beloved Samuel, not to mention the whole damn hamlet. Not only do I have spies, I have ways of getting out the word, you see.”

Carefully refolding the photocopy, she tucks it away and pats her bag. “Unless you pack up your Gucci bags and get out of town before dawn, that is.”

I have no words, but just in case I did, she leans in, poking my breastbone with a pointy, pink-tipped fingernail.