Page 116 of The Tryst

With an eye roll, he shrugs. TheI don’t give a shit about youkind of shrug. “You told me. Thanks,” he says, then carelessly flips a hand toward the door. “There’s the door.”

This is worse than I expected. “Can’t we talk?”

As if in slow motion, he turns his face to me, then levels me with anare you kidding mestare. “If I wanted to talk, I would have gone to your place like we planned. But I didn’t. So, no, I don’t want to talk. I only answered the door to be polite. Like you taught me to be,” he says, his brown eyes mean. “You also taught me to be honest, to help out, to work hard. How’s all that working out for you?”

Oh, shit.

Talk about a low blow. But I deserve that, so I swallow the shock and stick to my plans. “David, I met her in Miami. I didn’t know she was your friend.”

“And my ex. Don’t forget that,” he adds, lifting a finger to make his point.

“I had no idea till I met her again at the diner.”

“Dude. I get that. I’m literally not confused about a thing now. But my girlfriend is in the hospital with a broken leg, and you want to tell me about your love life. Cool, cool. Why don’t you order another couple of meatball subs for us and some beers, and we’ll have a man to man?”

Ouch.

I don’t know what I expected from today, but it wasn’t this. And for one of the first times in my life, I’m speechless.

David’s not though. He points to the door. “You should go, Dad.”

I don’t fight it.

Sometimes, you don’t get to fix your mistakes. You just have to live with them.

So with one last apology, I leave.

39

I, TOO, LOVE LEFTOVERS

Layla

I’m not a cook, so I don’t offer to make dinner for Nick that night. I do, however, insist on picking up something, and I tell him as much over text.

You need to eat even when life is falling apart. I learned this from my mother.

She picked up dinner every night after my father’s death. Yes, she stopped cooking. But she didn’t stop taking care of me.

Fine, fine. We’re not talking death here. But on Sunday night, I grab food from Thai Wisdom a few blocks away, then return to my building. At the concierge desk I tell Grady that he can put Nick Adams on the list.

“Along with Harlow Granger, Ethan Adair, and Anna Mayweather,” he says, scanning the computer screen in front of him.

“Yes,” I say, then I add Jules and Camden. I trust them too. I head upstairs, sadness still trailing me as I think about Nick’s afternoon. He didn’t give me details. He only said it didn’t go well.

I wish there were something I could do. But at least I can feed him.

When I’m inside my home, I set the food on the counter. My phone rings.

“Hey. I’m here,” he says, sounding a little hollow. “Heading into your building.”

“You’re on the list,” I add, but I don’t try to force too much cheer into my tone. He’s going to feel what he’s going to feel, and I can’t change it with chipperness.

“Oh,” he says, surprised. “But I’ll probably still call you first anyway.”

He doesn’t saythe next time I come over, but I hear it anyway, and I like it. “Fair enough.”

A few minutes later, I unlock the door and let him in. His warm hazel eyes are so tired. His smile is half-hearted.

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