“Yeah?” I shrugged. I took the tiny paper umbrella out, closed it, and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans. I am saving them. I don’t know for what. “So what?”

“I just never would have pegged you for an umbrella-drink kind of girl,” Rob said.

“Yeah,” I said again. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”

Rob didn’t say anything more about my choice of drinks after that. There was a brief discussion over specials, but both Rob and I said we weren’t ready to order yet, and Ann went away again, leaving us with the menus and our drinks.

I took a small sip of my margarita. I always take tiny sips, to make it last. The margaritas at Blue Moon—that’s the name of the restaurant—are expensive. Even the virgin ones.

“And your folks?” Rob asked. “How are they doing?”

This was so surreal. I mean, that I was sitting there in the Blue Moon with Rob Wilkins, politely discussing our families. Like we were both grown-ups. It was sort of blowing my mind.

“They’re fine,” I said. I didn’t say anything else. Like, “Oh, and by the way, my mom still hates your guts. And you know, I’m not so sure she has the wrong idea.”

“Yeah,” Rob said. “I see Doug from time to time.”

Doug? My brother hated it when people called him Doug. What was going on here? Since when had Douglas started getting so pally with my ex?

“He told me Mike was spending the summer with you,” Rob went on. “Ruth’s brother, too, I see. Or is he just visiting?”

“No, he’s with us until September,” I said. “They’re both crashing—he and Mike—while they work internships in the city. So did your mom sell the farm? I mean, when she moved to Florida?”

Which was my subtle way of asking what HIS living arrangements were. Because I was trying to figure out what he was DOING here. In New York, I mean. Suddenly, it had occurred to me that maybe he was here to, like, break some kind of news. Like that he was getting married or something.