"You too, man." He holds up his phone and gives it a little shake. "Gotta call Freddie. We… well."
I raise an eyebrow, my hand stilling on the door handle to my hotel room. "You what?"
Tristan looks sheepish, at odds with his usual competence and calm. "We're not telling anyone yet."
"Oh," I say. And then I understand what he's saying. "Jesus. Is she…?"
He nods, and the sheepishness dissolves into a grin. "Six weeks."
I reach for his hand and he lets me pull him in for a half-hug. "Christ, man. You'll be a father of two."
"Yes." He shakes his head, still grinning. "Don't know how I'll manage."
"You have a decade of experience as a father," I say. "You'll be fantastic."
He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "It was never like this with Joshua, you know. It was never my wife pregnant, I wasn't in the delivery room… and I never had him as an infant. There are so many things that could go wrong."
"But so many things that could go right," I say. "Congrats, man. To both you and Freddie. Don't worry, I'll still act surprised when you tell us all."
Tristan's smile widens even further. He looks like he's lit up from within with joy. "Thanks. I'd better call. I'm driving her insane, probably, asking her to report how she's feeling several times a day."
I chuckle and nod toward his hotel room across the hall. "Go, then."
"Thanks. Night, man."
"Goodnight."
I close the hotel door behind me and lean my head against it for a long moment. He's having a second kid. The first with his wife, and the two of them-the three of them-will go through that together.
I look around the hotel room. It's bland and beige and about as personal as a franchise chain can be. The bed is huge and doesn't look slept in. I haven't felt lonely in years, but here it is, elegantly decorated and acidic.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. It's Audrey.
Audrey: It was all right. I was actually out on a date. The guy who cancelled last week, you remember?
Fuck.
My mouth tastes like ash, the pleasant aftertaste of bourbon long gone. Is this her answer to my question, then? If she'd consider letting me ask her out.
Defeat feels like a poison in my blood.
She'd gotten ready for him. Done her makeup and hair. Sat across from someone who didn't know her, didn't understand her, and made pleasant small talk.
Three little dots appear on the screen as she types another message. I stare down at them. Waiting for the verdict to fall.
They disappear. One second. Two seconds. Then they appear again. She's writing for so long that I'm half-expecting an essay, and if it's a polite no-thank-you, I don't know what I'll do.
The dots disappear.
Oh, for fuck's sake. My finger hovers over the call button. The one we've rarely used. I hit call. Audrey takes four long signals to answer. Maybe she's looking at her phone, just like me, wondering why I'm calling.
"Carter?" she says.
I close my eyes at her voice. "Yeah, it's me."
"Is everything all right?"
"As good as I can be," I say, "after a day of back-to-back meetings." There's an edge to my voice. I can hear it, and I can't stop it, not when I think of her and her date. Still looking for the man she'd told me about, the one who would cook her dinner and share the newspaper with her.
On the other end, Audrey's voice softens and turns teasing, all at the same time. "Poor little CEO."
"Someone pulled out my chair for me at dinner."
"How dare they?"
"Nearly had them fired on the spot," I say. For a few seconds neither of us speaks. The tension in my shoulders drops, just a tad.
"Did you just get back to your hotel room?"
"Yes," I say, and reach up to undo my tie. "And you just got home."
She's quiet for a beat, and I hear rustling on the other line. Is she lying in bed? I wish I'd have seen her apartment, to imagine where she's sitting now. "I did," she says quietly. "It was with the guy from last week. When you and I went for dinner instead."
I push away from the hotel door and walk through my suite. Toss my tie in the direction of my suitcase. "Right. The one who cancelled last minute."
It takes her a moment to answer. "Yes. I didn't… know how to respond when he asked for a rain check that night, so I said yes."
Her voice sounds apologetic. Fuck, I can handle being turned down, but I can't handle her walking on eggshells. "And how was it?" I brace my hands on the desk, wondering how I'll sleep after this call. "The date?"
"It was okay. Not bad or good, really," she says. "At least I'm not getting so nervous anymore, beforehand. It's getting… easier."
"Good," I say. "That's good."
"Yeah. I think that means I'll be less nervous when I go out with someone I'm genuinely interested in."
I reach for the buttons of my shirt. I feel too hot, my skin scorching to the touch. Maybe it's my pride burning up inside of me, because I'm seconds away from asking if she's given any more thought to my question.
"Great," I say.
Another quiet beat. We're never quiet this much, but if there's a joke to crack here, I can't find it. Can't make my way to the banter that will make it feel okay. "Did he kiss you?"
"No, God no," she says. Instant relief floods through me. "We're not going on another one either."
"And why not?"
"Well, I…" She sounds embarrassed, voice soft.
"Audrey," I say. "You can tell me."