Page 54 of Point of Contact

The woman next to him offered her slim hand. Trevor introduced himself, smiling when Marquita said, “Do you hate these things as much as I do?”

“And then some,” he admitted.

“Jaime, my husband, told me at least the food should be good, although the speeches are gonna be so boring.” She pointed at a man sitting next to Carl. “That’s him. Which one’s your wife?”

Whoa, awkward.

“Um, actually, that’s my partner sitting next to Jaime. Carl Jeffries.”

“Oh, you’re Carl’s partner! He and my husband are good friends at work.” Marquita paused, touching Trevor’s forearm. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”

Trevor froze in surprise. “Thank you,” he said, warmed by the sincere sympathy in her eyes. “I needed to hear that tonight.”

She patted his arm. “Hopefully this will go fast and be over soon, one of those spousal obligations that we just need to get through.”

A uniformed banquet server slid plates of salad and rolls in front of them, and Marquita turned to speak to the man on her other side. Trevor picked at his food, managing a few bites here and there, putting ‘the face’ on so he could laugh at people’s jokes and funny stories, even telling one himself about the time he slid off the road after a recent blizzard and ended up in a snowbank.

“Oh, dear, Trevor. My teenage son just started driving, and I’m waiting for that phone call. ‘I’m stuck, Mom, come pull me out!’” Laughter around the table as the woman who spoke threw up her hands. “Not much I’ll be able to do in a Kia!”

“My son has already gotten three speeding tickets, can you believe that? We took his keys away and enrolled him in a driving course—”

“You have to steer into the skid, Riley,” Trevor gasped as Riley brought the car to a shuddering halt.

“It seems so weird to do that!” Riley pounded his fist on the steering wheel in frustration. “All I wanna do is slam on the brakes.”

“And you see what happens,” Trevor said, looking out at the sprawling, empty parking lot covered in snow from a recent storm. “You lose control.” He reached out and covered Riley’s clenched fingers with his own. “Trust me, son. It’s hard to do, but next time, steer directly into the skid.”

Riley took a few deep breaths, then nodded.

“Let’s go again, before they get the plows and salt trucks out to clean this up, okay?”

“Coffee, sir?”

Trevor jumped as a coffee cup and saucer was placed in front of him. After it was poured, he wrapped his fingers around the warm cup, noticing that Carl was looking at him from the dais, his eyebrows raised. Trevor made an effort to smooth his expression out, shoving the memories away. He gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, relieved when Carl winked at him before turning to speak to Jaime.

“My hair has turned completely gray since my twins started driving.” The woman on Trevor’s other side patted her beautifully coiffed hair. “Those two are going to be the death of me yet.”

She glanced around the table, her head swiveling in Trevor’s direction. Her mouth opened, and as if through a tunnel he heard her say the words he had absolutely no defense against—

“So do you have children, Trevor?”

The walls closed in on him, and his heart started to race. “I, uh, I—”

Different phrases crowded his brain. I had a son but he died.

My son was killed in Afghanistan.

I recently lost my only son.

He didn’t want to say any of them, didn’t want to deal with the empty platitudes that would follow, didn’t want to bring the mood down and ruin Carl’s night.

“No, I don’t have any children,” he forced out, dimly aware of Marquita resting her hand on his forearm to squeeze. The quiet sympathy was his undoing, and Trevor felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to sting.

He pushed his chair back and stood. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, and fled the room, pushing through the doors out into the cold night air. He leaned against the side of the building, clenching his teeth against the tide of grief welling in his chest, hating himself for being so goddamn weak.

Taking deep breaths in through his nose, Trevor fought for control, and he almost won, until he looked out over the kids’ play area adjacent to the restaurant.

“Jump, Riley! I’ll catch you!”