“I know.”
“And I don’t mean for this. Well, not just for this.”
David’s brow furrowed.
“I know it hurts, what happened with Farzan. But I’m proud of you for putting yourself out there. It made me happy, seeing you happy.”
David was not ready to cry on the job. He put on his winningest somm smile.
“Thanks, Jeri.”
Jeri went back to the kitchen while David cleaned up. His phone buzzed again, but he would deal with it once he was done. It wasn’t like the one person he wanted to hear from would be texting him anyway.
Every day, the ache lessened, but still. Still. He missed Farzan. Sometimes, after a long shift, he found himself turning left toward River Market instead of right, toward home. Wishing he could go curl up on Farzan’s couch, split a bottle of wine, talk about their days, watch a movie or play a game. Make out, fall into bed.
But then he remembered their last fight. He remembered the years he’d spent preparing for the coming weekend. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Focus.
He wiped his hands and reached into his pocket, but Kyra waved him down to help pick a bottle of Champagne for a couple celebrating their anniversary (he did his best not to be bitter), then he got stuck explaining orange wine to one of their regulars who’d never heard of it. And then a huge crowd of finance bros surged in right at ten o’clock, and he wound up behind the bar, pouring wine for Tonya while she managed a dozen cocktail orders.
His phone buzzed one last time, close to midnight, but there werepeople to tab out, and then he had to help close up, and might as well wait until he got home.
Thankfully, the streets had been thoroughly plowed and salted, though the wind was bitterly cold as he pulled up at home. He hung his suit and pulled on his favorite sweats. The ones Farzan had liked so much.
He had four texts and a missed call from Ayesha. Fuck, he’d been meaning to talk to her—when had he last?—but she was probably in bed.
Still, he shot her a text.
David
Hey, sorry. Just got home from work.
You still up?
If not, catch you tomorrow maybe?
David knew she was a night owl, but not as much of one anymore, not with two kids. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of Burgundy he’d opened the night before. Nothing ever felt quite so warming as Burgundy: it called to mind warm stone hearths, boeuf bourguignon melting in his mouth, and a butane torch over the shell of a creme brûlée. Fleece blankets and snuggling with Farzan and—
To his surprise, his phone started ringing.
“Hey, Ayesha,” he said, once her face appeared on the screen, rich brown catching the orange light of a floor lamp as she sprawled on her living room couch. A pink silk scarf covered her hair, which looked freshly braided. “Sorry I missed you earlier. Work was…”
Well, it hadn’t even been that busy, but busy enough.
“Don’t make this about work. You don’t work twenty-four hours a day, do you? You could’ve answered my texts yesterday, or the day before. Or any number of times over the past month.”
“I answered!”
“I’m fine, how are you?isn’t much of an answer, David.” She sighed, which led to a coughing fit; she reached for a tissue and covered her mouth.
“Shit, you okay?”
“I’m fine. Micah brought home a nasty cold from school. I’ve been sleeping on the couch so I don’t wake up Janine.”
“Oh damn, I’m sorry. I had one a while back… it only lasted a few days, but it was rough.” And Farzan had taken care of him, too. He shoved the thought away. “Drink plenty of fluids.”
“I’ve got two kids, this isn’t my first rodeo,” Ayesha muttered before coughing into her Kleenex. “They’re both walking petri dishes.”
