Page 162 of A Matter of Time

“I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls around Christmas but⁠—”

“I just didn’t want you to think I was breaking my promise. I told you I would meet your family, but you never called me back.”

“Yeah, I know, and I’m sorry. I had just met somebody, and it seemed like it was going to be serious, so I basically blew you off. It was a real shitty thing to do.”

I laughed softly. “Everybody blows off their friends for a lover, Nicky, don’t beat yourself up. Who cares? We’re friends, we’re good. Tell me what happened?”

“He told me after New Year’s that he didn’t want to break up with me over the holidays but that it was over before Christmas. He said I was shitty in bed and that I should think about taking lessons from someone. It’s getting to be the story of my life, J.”

I winced. “I never said you were shitty in bed. I said we—emphasis on the word we—had no chemistry. That has as much to do with me as you.”

“No it doesn’t, because we both know you’re great in bed.”

I was silent, because I wasn’t sure yet whether he was trying to be offensive or not.

“I bet all the guys you’ve been in bed with tell you all the time how hot you are and how good and⁠—”

“Bye, Nick,” I said before I hung up and headed into the club.

I had a good time hanging out with Evan, but took home numbers instead of guys. He asked me as I was leaving if I was turning into a monk.

On my way home I ducked down a gangway, and when I hit the sidewalk, I remembered I needed tea. The corner store sold a smoky-flavored mix I loved, so I went to see if the old man was working. If he was, it would still be open; if it was his son’s night, he’d closed up to hit the clubs. As I moved up the street I checked both sides, as was my new habit, and there on the other side, coming out of a diner, was Sam. He was holding hands with Maggie Dixon. Dominic, another guy, and two women were with them. I slowed but didn’t stop, wanting to hide but moving instead.

The last time I had seen him was when I’d appeared in front of the grand jury. He had ignored me in court and walked away without speaking after my turn on the stand. I had given my testimony and two others had given theirs, and after that, Brian had decided to take a plea. His choice was to become a witness against his boss, and they had put him into protective custody. They didn’t need me anymore, and it was understood that the threats on my life would cease. The Assistant State's Attorney handling the case, ASA Chaney, had called to tell me that I was released from any further service. I could be a private citizen again. Nothing had happened for the two months I had been at my new job, and I had never once heard from Sam.

I had thought of calling him at Christmas, but it seemed futile, and then Dane had eclipsed anything else with his plans and the travel and our bonding. I had wanted to call Sam on New Year’s and then to tell him it was my birthday and alert him to the fact that I had turned twenty-three. I had no idea why that had seemed important at the time. But the days had come and gone with growing absence and stacking silence. Too much time had passed, with neither of us reaching for the other. On the street, walking by him like a stranger, I felt the finality of it and the enormity of the chasm between us. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, so I did. I shoved my gloved hands deep into my pockets as I went by, tucking my chin to my chest, taking a deep breath of cold January air.

The store was open, and I got a wave from the old man as I went to the back where the tins his wife put her private tea leaves in were. My phone rang, and I read Nick’s number on the display.

“Do I wanna talk to you?” I asked him irritably.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just feeling really shitty, and I took it out on you because I could. Forgive me.”

I grunted.

“Please, Jory, I’m so⁠—”

“Don’t say sorry even one more time.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

I growled.

“Shit. I… God, Jory, I’ve been such a mess. I should’ve called you and… ’Cause you’re the one I wanted to meet my folks, not Ray Alvarez.”

Wait. “What?”

“I said that⁠—”

“Ray Alvarez?”

“Yeah, Raymond Alvarez. That’s the guy’s name.”

“Shit.”

“It’s funny, you know,” he went on, not really hearing me. “I went to his place tonight, and he tried to get rid of me for an hour—said he had somewhere else he had to be. I told him I didn’t care, I wanted to fix things with him. And he finally broke down and yelled at me. He told me that we were already broken up and that’s why he’d agreed to a date. Somebody at work set him up, and he was more interested in meeting some new guy than in talking it out with me.”

“When did he break up with you?”