Bring Down the Stars

“That’s cool.”

The waiter came back with our drinks, and Connor ordered for us, filet for me and prime rib for him.

He held up his beer to my wine glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I said, disappointed he didn’t offer a toast as romantic as the text that brought us here.

Connor took a pull from his beer, set it down, then leaned back in his chair.

“So what else do you do, Autumn, when you’re not figuring out how to save the world?”

“That takes up a lot of time,” I said, then laughed. “Studying, I mean. And I work at the Panache Blanc bakery. You know it? On Pleasant?”

“Sure,” he said. “Wes goes there some nights to study.”

“I work the morning shifts.”

His shoulders twitched a little. “What time does that start?”

“Six a.m.”

Connor mimed being stabbed in the heart. “Six a.m. every morning?”

I laughed. “You sound like my roommate. I have Saturdays off but I still wake up early. It’s a habit from growing up on a farm.”

“What do you do for fun?”

“I like to read. And I listen to music. I love alternative music. Growing up, we didn’t hear much of it. The first time I heard New Order, I was ten years behind everyone else.” I smiled. “Now I’m all caught up.”

“Cool, cool,” Connor said. His fingers drummed the table. The fidgety rhythm and the murmur of other patrons’ conversations filled the silence between us.

“So, do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.

“One brother,” Connor said. “Older.”

“I have a brother too,” I said. “Younger. A senior in high school.”

“Jefferson’s at Harvard Business School,” Connor said. “He’s about to graduate with honors. He’ll probably work with my mother in the Senate, then run for office himself some day.”

His darkened expression told me I’d blundered onto the wrong topic. Being unhappy, I realized, was unnatural to Connor. Like a too-tight suit he itched to take off as soon as possible.

“Is that a bad thing?”

He glanced up and seemed to realize he’d been frowning. “No, sorry. It’s great. He’s on track to make a difference in the world. Meanwhile, I want to open a sports bar. My parents remind me of this. Frequently.”

“They put a lot of pressure on you?”

“They’re high-profile, so they want their kids to be high-profile too.” He shook his head, took another pull of beer and shot me a wink. “I’m not trying to save the world like some people I know.”

“I think we all have our own paths to follow,” I said. “Mine is to go out in the world and bring some relief to some people. I hope, anyway. Yours is to give them a place to come to. A haven.”

Connor’s smile widened slowly, like a brilliant dawn rising.

“Yeah, exactly,” he said. “A haven. I love that.”

I basked in that smile. “I’m glad.”

His gaze lingered on mine, and I grinned nervously at the tiny zing of electricity in the moment. I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and glanced over his shoulder.