James had called twice before noon and once after lunch. Each time, the call rolled to voicemail like a door shutting in his face.
He tossed the phone onto the couch and stared at it until he felt foolish. Grace stood at the kitchen island winding a ribbon around a small box that held nothing yet, practicing the gesture for next week. Her birthday. He had promised a gift and a dinner and a version of himself that didn't check his phone every two minutes.
“You're pacing," Grace said, watching the loop his shoes drew into the rug. “Just ask, and I'll say we can go tomorrow."
“We'll go now," James said. He grabbed his keys. “I promised. I keep promises."
She tied off the ribbon with a tidy tug. “Even when your head's somewhere else?"
“My head is in control," he said. “Let's go."
They dr
