“Go. I know you’re slammed.”
“No, I have a minute.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wanted to call. We keep missing each other.”
“We do.”
“I’m back Friday night. Late, probably. Then Dallas Sunday.”
I already knew. It was on the shared calendar in green, her travel color. Mine were blue. We had become blocks of color sliding past each other.
“I have the home stand starting Saturday,” I said. “But Friday night I’ll be here.”
“If my flight isn’t delayed.”
“If it is, I’ll pick you up whenever.”
“You don’t have to. I can Uber.”
“I know I don’t have to.”
She looked back at the screen, and for a second, I saw the woman I’d married. Not the consultant with three devices and no time, but Olivia in my old college sweatshirt, feet tucked under her on a couch in Raleigh, telling me I was impossible to buy gifts for because I never admitted wanting anything.
“I know,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
We should have said more. There was room for it. A small door cracked open.
Neither of us walked through.
She asked about the staff. I asked about her client. She told me Atlanta traffic was still a crime against civilization. I told her Tiny had tried to fight a sprinkler head and lost. She laughed again, then a notification chimed on her end and her attention split.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really do have to go.”
“Do your thing.”
“I’ll text when I’m done?”
“Yeah.”
“Night, Dec.”
“Night, Liv.”
The call ended.
Tiny put his chin on my forearm, heavy and warm.
I scratched behind his ear. “Don’t look at me like that.”
He looked at me exactly like that.
I worked for another hour. Clips. Notes. Staff comments. Practice adjustments. It was easier to understand men on ice than a marriage losing shape by inches.
My brothers made their nightly attempt to lower the collective intelligence of the Reid family at 9:13.
Owen called first. Nate was already on the line, judging by the sound of someone chewing directly into the phone.
“Please tell me you’re not both on speaker,” I said.
“We’re both on speaker,” Owen said. “And Nate is eating cereal like a raccoon in a dumpster.”
