“What happened?” he asked.
I took a long drink. Let the burn settle in my chest before I answered. Buying myself time. Trying to figure out how to put it into words that didn’t make me sound completely pathetic.
“We had a moment tonight,” I said finally. “For about five seconds I thought—” I stopped. Shook my head. “Finally. After seven years of nothing, I thought finally.”
“You got your hopes up for nothing?” Simon’s lips twitched in a sardonic smile.
I could still feel it—the flat of her palms against my chest. “She told me it was over. That nothing I did would change that.”
“That’s rough.”
“Yeah.” I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That’s one word for it.”
We drank in silence for a moment. The bartender drifted to the other end of the counter, giving us space. Outside, a carpassed, headlights sweeping briefly across the window before disappearing into the dark.
“How’s the custody case?” I asked, because I needed to talk about something else. Anything else. My own situation was a wound I kept pressing on, and I needed to stop before I bled out all over this bar. “The fake wife situation?”
Something shifted in Simon’s expression. I recognized because I’d seen it in my own mirror often enough. That particular mix of confusion and resignation.
“Hannah’s good with Suzy,” he said.
I glanced at him. “Yeah?”
“I was determined to dislike her.” He stared at his glass. “From the start. Told myself she was just a means to an end. A contract that would help me get my daughter back. Nothing more.”
He paused, when he spoke again, his voice was gentler. “Now it appears my daughter isn’t the only one who’s fallen for her.”
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. I knew that feeling—the slow horrifying realization that somewhere along the way, the thing you’d been telling yourself didn’t matter had become the only thing that did.
“The marriage was supposed to be simple,” Simon said quietly. “Except now I watch her with Suzy and I can’t breathe.” He shook his head slowly. “She holds her when she has nightmares and doesn’t complain when Suzy kicks her in her sleep—and I stand in the doorway like some lovesick idiot, watching them together, and I think—this. This is what I didn’t know I was missing. This is what all those empty rooms in my house were waiting for.”
“You tell her?”
“No.” He took another drink. “I’m a coward.”
“Join the club.” I raised my glass. “We should get jackets made. Matching ones. ‘Emotionally Unavailable Men Who Can’t Use Their Words.’”
“Too long. Won’t fit on the back.”
“We’ll abbreviate.”
He almost smiled. Almost. “At least I have an excuse. My situation is genuinely complicated—contracts, custody, a child caught in the middle. Yours is just sad.”
“Thanks for that.”
“I’m serious, Specter.” He turned to face me fully, elbow on the bar. “You’ve been chasing this woman since college. You bought her entire company. You’re one dramatic gesture away from a restraining order.”
“It’s not stalking if you own the building.”
“Pretty sure that’s exactly what a stalker would say.” He shook his head. “I’m saying this as your friend. Maybe it’s time to accept that some things aren’t meant to be. Cut your losses. Move on. Find someone who actually wants to be found.”
“You giving up on Hannah?”
He paused. His jaw tightened. “No.”
“Then don’t tell me to give up on Pauline.”
We stared at each other for a moment. Two men caught in the same trap, both too stubborn to admit we’d walked into it willingly. Too proud to chew off our own legs to escape. Too far gone to even want to.
