Thirty-Eight
Chicago looked vast from where he was standing.
The jagged skyline sprawled across Jake’s vision, glittering with lights and motion, and he should be reveling in it. He had the office. He had the window. He had the view. All of it came with the partnership he’d officially been handed that morning, along with respect, stability, security. Everything he’d ever wanted.
So why the fuck did he feel so empty?
He was struck with the sudden urge to laugh. To drop onto his new plush carpet and howl with laughter until he had no more breath in his body. But nothing was funny about his current mood. Mabel liked to tease him about his Clark Kent appearance, but it turned out he was actually Bruce Wayne: handed the world, yet stuck glowering at it alone from on high.
Clark Kent. Mabel. His broken heart.
With a growl, he spun on his heel, turning his back on the view. He snatched his phone from his desk to confirm what he already knew: she hadn’t texted. Of course she hadn’t. He hadn’t texted her either. He’d had no contact with her since his unreturned voicemail. And if they ever did talk again, he wasn’t even sure which of them should be the one to apologize. Him, for taking the partnership? Or her, for letting him go without a single argument?
“Fuck!” He dropped the phone and leaned his hands on his desk. It was shined to such a polish that he could see his reflection. He looked like shit.
“You look like shit.”
He snapped his head up at hearing his thoughts spoken out loud to see Milo in the doorway. “How’d you get in here?”
His friend sauntered into the room and took a lap around the perimeter. “I told you. Your assistant thinks I’m dreamy.” He paused in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, giving a low whistle. “Sure beats the hell out of my office.” He dropped into the guest chair in front of the desk.
“Your office is three times this size,” Jake reminded him.
“It’s on the third floor of a glorified warehouse. IwishI could see all the way to Navy Pier.”
Jake only grunted, but if Milo thought his lack of enthusiasm was strange, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he reached into his bag and produced a bottle. “Here. Congratulations on the partnership.”
Jake accepted it without much enthusiasm, but when he read the label, it startled a laugh out of him. “You remembered.”
A corner of Milo’s mouth tilted up. “Of course I remembered.”
Jake wrapped careful fingers around the bottle of Suntory whiskey, touched at the reminder of their long-ago conversation. “What were we drinking that night?”
“Old Crow,” Milo said with a grimace. “Celebrating you moving into your own apartment. Eight years ago, right?”
The memory brought the first real smile to Jake’s lips in days. “That’s right. Old Crow was all I could afford after I’d put down a deposit and last month’s rent.” He shook his head. “God, we were babies. So excited to take on the world.”
“So excited to have enough cash to swap Old Crow for Suntory someday.” Milo looked pointedly at the bottle in Jake’s hands.
“Right, right. One minute.” He scrounged through his drawers until he located the coffee mugs where Marissa had stashed them after his possessions had been transferred into his new space. He’d have to get some barware for his office soon. Maybe he and Mabel could—
Fuck.Including her in his plans was going to be a hard habit to break. It was a habit he didn’twantto break.
With an impatient motion, he cracked the bottle open and inhaled the sharp scent, waiting to feel… something. But the pride over his new place in the world didn’t materialize as he’d hoped it would. He poured a healthy portion into both mugs and offered one to Milo.
His friend clinked his cup against Jake’s and took a long sip. “Worth every penny,” he sighed.
Jake imitated Milo’s action, letting the expensive Japanese alcohol roll across his tongue. It tasted fine; the smoky burn was what he expected from an aged whiskey. But it left him disappointed.This expensive bottle of alcohol was supposed tomeansomething. It was supposed to bestow a grander meaning to the events of the day, to be the ceremonial capper to this lifelong achievement. Instead, he tasted… alcohol.
He took another sip, this time seeking numbness instead of elevation. He’d made it. He wasn’t the kid with the closet full of thrift-store clothes anymore. He could stop worrying about the future. So why did the years stretching ahead of him seem so empty?
Milo stared down into his mug, still lost in the memory of their younger selves. “I thought we were going to die of alcohol poisoning that night, or at least go blind.” When Jake didn’t reply, Milo sighed. “Okay, dude, something is clearly bothering you. You should be fist-pumping and gloating about your success. Instead, you’re”—he waved his arm to encompass Jake’s whole sad-sack body—“whatever the fuck this is. What gives?”
Jake set down his mug and dropped his head into his hands.
“Oh. Oooooh. It’s the girl. Got it.”
Jake lifted his gaze. “How the fuck do you always know?”
