“You were gone forever, did you even get me that martini I asked for?”
“Shit, no, sorry.”
“It’s fine, I got my own.”
Lillian guided him through the joyful crowd back over to their table, which was now deserted. His siblings, niece and nephew were all on the dance floor now. Carver was seized by an uncharacteristic maudlin, much like whatever had driven him to tears earlier. He would like to go be carefree and happy with his family. He was tired of feeling like this was impossible. Wasn’t there a way?
He’d ordered a fourth vodka soda for the road, and he raised it automatically to his mouth. As the cold glass touched his lips he realized the gesture had been automatic and lowered it, feeling caught.
Lillian’s phone rang in her hand, and she looked at it. “That’s Credit Suisse,” she said.
“Oh yeah? Do they have some toxic CDOs they’d like to offload?”
“Carver,” Lillian scoffed, like he was being a dipshit. She walked away and raised her phone to her ear.
Carver set his drink down and stood with his fingertips pressed to the edge of the table, swaying a little. Thank God, he was finally entering a state of real drunkenness. He stared down at a sea of garnet napkins, small plates containing forks and the remains of cake, and half-empty sweating water glasses. It took him a moment to realize his own phone was vibrating in his pocket. He dug it out and looked at the screen. Marcus was calling him.
Carver picked up. “Hey there.”
“Hey, Carv, how’s it going?”
“Good, good.”
“How’s the wedding?”
Carver looked around. “Stupendous,” he said.
“Great,” Marcus said, with zero genuine interest. “I was trying to reach Lillian, but it went to voicemail. Are you guys together?”
Carver glanced over at his wife, who was standing in the corner next to a very tall softbox light the wedding photographer had erected, talking animatedly into the phone. “She’s on with Credit Suisse.”
“Gotcha. Listen, I’m glad you guys have been developing them as an alternative, but if you want to go ahead and just meet DB’s higher equity requirement, you’re good to go on that. We just approved your request.”
Carver continued to watch Lillian. She was beautiful, loose-limbed, smiling. Her movements and expressions flowed with total ease. Suddenly he fully understood for the first time that this person had never once consciously doubted herself.
The idea filled him with anger. It came on with vicious abruptness, like the urge to vomit, and when the anger passed it left behind a sense of total alienation. Was she not human? What creature could live without doubt?
“Good to hear,” he said.
“So, once you guys talk, just let us kn —”
“We’ll take the equity,” Carver interrupted. “We’ll keep Deutsche Bank in place as originally planned.”
“Oh, gotcha. You don’t want to hear what Credit Suisse has to say?”
“No. They were always a backup.”
“Gotcha,” Marcus repeated. “I got a different impression from Lillian when we spoke last.”
“We’ve talked since then,” Carver said, his voice hard. “We decided it isn’t worth it, this late in the game.”
“Yeah, this certainly is the simpler way to handle things. But I think Lillian was worried about the rest of your deal pipeline, and your dry powder?”
“We’ll work it out.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Marcus said cheerfully. He clearly believed Carver, he wouldn’t expect him to backstab his wife. Not because he thought better of him, but because Lillian wasn’t a person to fuck with. “Let’s get this done, then. We’ll close the loop on our side.”
“Sounds good. Thanks again for getting everyone together on a Saturday.”
