“And Saturday,” he interjects.”
“Asshole.” I throw a pretzel at him and continue. “I’m tired of closing down bars just to wake up with strangers I don’t care about. It’s time that I slow down. Sleep more. Eat better. Do something responsible for once, like grade papers before deadlines instead of after. For the first time in a long time, I’m tired of being five steps behind in my own life.”
George studies me, looks me over head to toe. “And how long ago did you come to these realizations and start making these changes?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks ago?” I shrug.
“A few weeks.” George snorts. “And this enlightenment—that’s enough to put your grandfather’s watch back on?”
I grin, despite myself. “Stranger things have happened.”
He doesn’t grin back. He just continues to study me, patient as stone. He knows there’s more. This man sees through me like glass. And just like glass, I crack.
“There’s… someone new in the office,” I admit, finally.
George perks up, though he tries to hide it with a sip of his beer.
“She’s the new secretary,” I add quickly, holding up a hand. “And it’snotlike that.” George rolls his eyes. Rolls his motherfucking eyes.
“She just started last month. Moved here from out of town. Smart as hell. Caught an error in one of my quizzes before I even finished stapling it. Schooled me right there in my office. Didn’t blink. Didn’t stammer. Just laid it out like I was a freshman and she was the professor.”
He sees how gone I am for this woman in my eyes before I can school my features, and his mouth curves into the kind of smug, knowing smile that makes me want to hurl the entire pretzel bowl at his head.
“I’m fucking serious,” I warn, jabbing a finger at him, “it’s not like that. She’s just… competent. Direct. Which is… refreshing. And she’s friends with Alis and Skye. So, no, it’s most definitelynotlike that.”
George’s smile only widens, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Ah,” he says, low and smug, like a man watching the puck slide clean into the net. “So she’s the reason for the watch.”
By the timeI push back from the table and kiss Linda’s cheek goodnight, I’m exhausted from the effort of pretending. George claps me on the shoulder as I leave, his grip lighter than it used to be, but steady enough to say what he doesn’t out loud:Take care of yourself.
I nod, promise I will, and walk out into the night.
The drive home is silent. Radio off, phone facedown on the passenger seat. The roads are nearly empty, streetlights blurring through my windshield as I run back over every word from today. George’s smug smile. His voice:So she’s the reason for the watch.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I don’t want him to be right. I don’t want her to be the reason for anything. And yet, no matter how many times I tell myself she’s just a secretary, just a sharp tongue and a steady gaze, the truth presses in like a bruise I can’t stop touching.
I roll through a yellow that probably should’ve been a red and catch my reflection in the rearview—the hard line of my mouth, the watch face ghosting in the corner of the glass. I flip the mirror down. Childish. Doesn’t help. The image is still there in my head: her hand braced on the edge of the filing cabinet, the tiny tremor in her fingers she tried to hide. The way she saidthank youlike I’d taken a boulder off her spine with three words and a body in a doorway.
“Fuck,” I say to the empty car, like swearing at upholstery might rewire me back to the version of myself that didn’t care.
A light turns green. I don’t move at first. The guy behind me taps his horn—polite, not pissed. I pull forward and breathe through my teeth. I need out. Out of this loop. Out of her voice in my head. Out of George’s knowing, out of the way my chest feels strangely sore, like I’ve been running stairs.
I reach for the phone at the next stop sign and call Dexter.
He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.” My voice scrapes. “You busy?”
Pause, the soft background wash of family noise. Clinking plates, a kid laughing. Sunny. “Kind of,” he says. “Alis’s parents are in town, we’re doing a whole weekend thing. I can pull away for a beer later tonight if you need?—”
“No.” I say it too fast. “No, it’s fine. I was just… driving.”
“Driving where?” he asks, too gentle, like he can hear the weight in my throat.
“Home.” I clear it. “From George and Linda’s.”
“How’s he doing?”
