Truly(21)

The quirky little smile. “I know that.”

“Where are the bees?”

He pointed up, and like an idiot, May looked toward the ceiling, searching for buzzing insects. “On the roof,” he clarified.

“So that’s …” A job? “That’s a surprise.”

“I’ll bet. I keep hives on the roof. They’re not my bees, actually, they’re Alec’s. He gives me a break on the rent in exchange for taking care of his bees. But I’ve got a bunch more hives all over the city.”

“Why?”

“For the honey,” he said. “And because I like it.”

“You sell the honey?” She was still trying to figure out where the viable career was in all this.

“Yep. And some of the bees are leased to rooftop gardeners, so I get paid to make sure their crops get pollinated. I do some of that, too.”

“Some of what?”

“Gardening. That’s what I do for Cecily and Sam—I guess you didn’t see their menu, but a lot of the produce at the restaurant comes from a garden up on their roof. I’m in charge of the garden.”

“And their bees.”

“Right.”

“So when you said, ‘Best honey in New York’ …”

“I was bragging. That was spring honey from the hives on their roof.”

“Your honey.”

“My honey.”

“I think I would like some wine after all,” she said, and he grinned. Which just made her want the wine even more.

He was a farmer. In New York City. It figured, didn’t it? Only May would leave Wisconsin behind, move to New Jersey, stumble her way into a total life meltdown, and then pick a Wisconsin bee farmer to go home with.

A Wisconsin bee farmer who looked like a male model in disguise.

And didn’t want to get in her pants.

He got up to pour her a glass just as his phone began to ring from the countertop where he had left it. “Why don’t you get that?” he asked. “It’s probably for you.”

May retrieved the phone. “Hello?”

“May! It’s Anya! Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I’m all right. Thanks for calling back.”

“We were worried about you! I saw the video—oh my goodness!”

“Yeah.” She heard music blaring in the background. “Where are you?”

“We’re all in Green Bay for Teeny’s bachelorette. I didn’t see your message until right now.”

“That’s okay. I was … I lost my purse, and I can’t get in touch with Allie or my parents because they’re at the cabin.”

“That sucks! And you and Dan …”

“We broke up.”

“Oh, May. Oh no.” The background noise died down. Anya must have decided she needed to take the conversation somewhere more private. “I guess you were mad at him. For that proposal.”

“I guess I was.”

“So you just …”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“This afternoon.”

“Honey, I’m so sorry. Maybe if you take a breather, he’ll pull his head out of his ass. I know you guys are meant to be together. I mean, how long has it been?”

“Four years.”

“And this whole year long-distance from Wisconsin to New Jersey—you guys did so well. I thought you were totally back on track.”

Separated by two flights, they’d been the perfect couple. It was only when May had started spending all her days with Dan that she’d begun to recognize what a profound gulf separated them, and how tiring it was to be responsible for bridging it.

Ben nudged her shoulder and held out the wineglass. She took it and held the phone a few inches away from her ear. Anya was talking too loud, which she did when she was drunk, and far too much, which she did most of the time. You could probably hear it in the bathroom. Ben had to be catching every word.

He lifted his wineglass in her direction and mouthed, Cheers.

May gave him a faint smile and knocked back half the glass in one go.

Meant to be together, Anya had said.

She’d heard that before. From her mother. From Dan up on that stage, when he was telling his version of their love story to three hundred strangers and she was realizing with horror that Dan’s version of their love story sucked. That the woman he was describing wasn’t her—not deep down—and she’d suffocate if she married him.

She hadn’t forked him on purpose. Not with malice aforethought. The fork itself had been an accident, a bit of flotsam she’d nervously clutched in her hand when she’d been sitting at a table in the audience and had realized that he was talking about her instead of giving the speech she’d come to watch him deliver.