There was a pause. Then her voice came back softer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Are you free this weekend? For dinner. The one I canceled?”
“Archie, are you drunk right now?” she asked.
“Getting there.”
“That bad?”
“I’m not an alcoholic,” I said. “Just stressed about work.”
“Must be some stress.” Her tone was light, but I could hear the concern underneath. It made me want to tell her everything, to explain what I’d learned, what I’d done, why I ran away.
But I couldn’t do it over the phone, not like this, not drunk and desperate and falling apart.
“This weekend,” I said instead. “Dinner. Let me make it up to you.”
She was quiet for a moment. I listened to her breathe, to the sounds of her cooking, to her life continuing normally while mine was imploding.
“Okay,” she said finally. “This weekend. But Archie?”
“Yeah?”
“Whatever’s going on with you—the work stress or whatever—you can talk to me about it. You know that, right?”
My throat felt constricted. “I know.”
“So what are you doing right now besides drinking alone?” I heard her move something, maybe a pot on the stove.
“Throwing things away.” I glanced at the trash can, the frame sitting inside it. “Getting rid of things I should’ve thrown away years ago.”
“Sounds productive in a weird, drunk way.”
I almost smiled. “What are you making?”
“Pasta, nothing fancy. I just needed comfort food after today.”
“Rough day?”
“Rough week.” She sighed. “The case I’m working on is exhausting.”
Guilt twisted in my stomach. She was talking about my company.
“You’ll figure it out,” I said, because what else could I say? “You’re smart and determined. They don’t stand a chance.”
“You’re drunk and biased.”
“I’m drunk and honest.”
She laughed, and the sound did something dangerous to my resolve, made me want things I had no right to want.
“There’s something I’m curious about,” she said after a moment. “You mentioned you work in real estate development. Which company?”
My hand tightened around the glass.
This was it, the moment to tell her the truth, to explain everything before this went any further.
But I couldn’t bring myself to end this, not yet, not over the phone. Or maybe I was just being a coward.
