"Mine too."
"Good," she said, and smiled, and the moment passed, or she let it seem to. "You still owe me a truth."
He looked down at his mug. Then he looked at the tree.
"Can I owe it to you?" he said. "I'll pay it. I promise I'll pay it. But not here. I'd like to—" He stopped. Pushed his glasses up. "I'd like to have a reason to see you again. And I think if I tell you now, you'll have heard the only interesting thing about me, and you'll go home."
Gina studied him for a long moment.
"You're very strange," she said.
"I know."
"Most men would just ask for my number."