Citlali was suddenly very aware of the cold winter air on her exposed skin. She shivered.
"So it's Carl? He's the 'someone else' you mentioned?"
"Yes," Citlali answered quietly. "And Peter, I'm--I wanted to say I'm sorry for how I handled the other day. I didn't have to rush off so quickly. I think I still don't really know how I should act around you. But I've been thinking," she glanced up at him shyly, rushed ahead before she could second-guess herself. "I'd like to see if we could go back to being friends. Remember all the chats we used to have at the store? On those slow days when there were no customers to keep us busy? . . . I've missed that."
Peter's expression was inscrutable.
"You did say, the other day, you still felt something for me," he said at last.
"I know. I do." Color rose into Citlali's cheeks. "But I don't . . ." she swallowed. "I've chosen Carl. He's a good man. He's so good with Miguel. And I really care about him."
"So it's him. You've decided?"
"Yes."
"Then . . ." Peter spoke slowly. "I'd rather be friends than nothing."
Citlali's nervous energy fell away. Meeting Peter's eyes fully for the first time, she smiled widely. "I'm glad.”
Peter stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I guess I should go, then.”
“Wait!” Citlali said, again speaking quickly to get the words out before she could rethink them. “Why don't you stay for the wedding? It seems like Nancy's already invited a few extra guests, what's one more?"
"I shouldn't. I'm not dressed for it. And Phoebe made very sure I knew I wasn’t invited.”
"Oh, please stay. We can finally have a real catch up," Citlali cajoled. "No one will care what you're wearing, I promise."
". . . I guess I could stay for a while."
Peter found himself pulled into a hug. Citlali's bare skin was hot compared to the cool air.
"Good!" she said. "I'm so glad."
"Yes. Me, too."
