"But you're thinking about her right now, aren't you? I can hear it in your voice."
"I'm thinking about her designs," I lie. "She's talented."
"Mmhmm. And what does she look like, this talented designer?"
"That's irrelevant."
Kate laughs again. "Oh my God, she's gorgeous. You never dodge the question unless they're gorgeous."
"Kate," I warn, but I’m not really mad. For all her meddling, Kate is the only person in the world who truly knows me. Who's allowed to tease me this way.
"Fine, fine. I'll stop." She pauses for approximately two seconds. "Actually, that's perfect timing, because I was calling about Raquel."
I close my eyes, instantly regretting picking up. "No."
"You don't even know what I was going to say!"
"You were going to suggest I take Raquel—whoever that is—to dinner. And the answer is no."
"Raquel Simpson," Kate says as if I didn't speak. "She's brilliant. Harvard Law, clerked for Justice Sanchez, now doing human rights work with the UN. She's funny, beautiful, and single. And yes, she wants to have dinner with you."
"I'm not interested." I turn back to my desk, shuffling papers as if Kate can see me, as if getting back to work will deter her persistence.
"You're not interested in anyone, Tristan. That's the problem. When was the last time you went on a date? And business dinners don't count."
I don't answer, which is answer enough.
Kate sighs dramatically. "This is not healthy, you know. All work and no play makes Tristan a dull, lonely, miserable?—"
"I'm not miserable." The defense comes too quickly, too forcefully. "I'm focused."
"On what? Making more money you don't have time to spend? Building more buildings the city doesn’t really need?"
Her words hit closer to home than I'd like. "My work matters."
"Of course it does," she softens. "Your buildings are amazing. But there's more to life than steel and glass, Tris."
The childhood nickname catches me off guard. Kate is the only one who still uses it, the only one who remembers the gangly, quiet boy I was before I built myself into the man I am now.
"I don't have time for dating," I say, more gently. "The company?—"
"Will still be there if you take one night off to have dinner with a smart, interesting woman."
I lean back in my chair, suddenly tired. "Kate, you know how these setups go. They expect charm and small talk and whatever else normal people do on dates. I'm not built for that."
"Raquel isn't looking for 'normal' either," Kate insists. "She's like you—intense, driven, too smart for most people."
"Then she deserves better than dinner with someone who's thinking about work the entire time."
"Oh, for God's sake!" Kate's exasperation explodes through the phone. "You're not some broken robot, Tristan. You're just a man who's convinced himself that connection is too difficult to be worth trying."
Her accuracy stings. "I have connections."
"With me. With maybe two people you call friends. And even Julian and Alexander only get the surface version of you most of the time."
I press my fingers against the bridge of my nose. "What do you want from me, Kate?"
"I want you to live, not just exist." Her voice softens again. "I want you to let someone see the person I know is in there. The one that used to be happy."
