Surprise flickers across his face. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ll be here with Nina. Tonight, we talk more. Just us.”
He stands. Hesitates. “Tonight,” he agrees. Then, softer: “I do care about you. You know that, right? Beyond operational parameters.”
“I know.”
“I just need?—”
“Time. I know.” I look up at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He meets my eyes for a moment longer than necessary. Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with the beige walls and the renovation show and his absence.
The woman at reception calls another name. The teenage daughter and her mother disappear through the double doors. The man with the paperback turns a page.
I pull out my phone and text Mason.
WYATT: Need to nail down who Rafael actually is. Chris is spooked.
His response is immediate.
MASON: Already on it. You good?
Define good, I think.
WYATT: Yeah. Just waiting.
A few dots appear, disappear, appear again.
MASON: Chris left?
WYATT: Had to handle something.
MASON: Right.
Mason doesn’t push. He reads the room better than I do, sometimes.
My phone buzzes with another text.
CHRIS: I meant it. Tonight. We’ll talk.
I stare at the message for a moment, then answer.
WYATT: I’ll be there.
Dots appear immediately, then disappear. Then appear again.
CHRIS: For what it’s worth, you were right. About all of it.
I stare at the message. He doesn’t say things like this easily. I know what it cost him.
WYATT: We both were.
The reception woman appears in the doorway. “Mr. Booth?”
I stand. “Yeah?”
“She’s in recovery. You can see her in about fifteen minutes.”
