Page 2 of Toren

“It is,” he agreed.

“Are Riggs and your brother divorced?” Andrew asked. “You said he was your former brother-in-law.”

“My brother died. Three years ago.”

Andrew cursed under his breath, cheeks flushing.

“It’s fine,” Toren said quickly.

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t.”

“That was rude of me.”

“I promise you it wasn’t.”

“I should have⁠—”

“Andrew!” Toren spoke maybe a little louder than necessary or maybe everything just felt so big because the car was so small. “It’s fine, I promise.”

Andrew didn’t say much for a couple of minutes and then he said, “I don’t know how many brothers I have.”

He sounded sad about it and when the car turned right and their knees touched again, Toren didn’t pull away.

“The opposite of my problem.”

Andrew grimaced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Neither did Smith when he said almost the exact same thing to me. It’s fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel fine,” Andrew grumbled.

“You can buy me a drink at the hotel if you want. To make up for the blunder, then,” he offered.

Andrew looked relieved, his shoulders sagging, as if spending fourteen dollars on an overpriced cocktail would do anything to ease the pressure against Toren’s sternum. Either way, the idea seemed to mollify Andrew, and Toren was pleased about it.

“How long are you visiting for?” he asked.

“Also leaving tomorrow. Work on Monday.”

“Where do you live?”

“San Diego.”

Toren scoffed, exhaling harshly out his nose. “What are the odds?”

“What about you?”

Their knees were still touching.

“San Diego.”

“What part?” Andrew asked.

“Hillcrest. You?”

“Mission Beach.” Andrew rolled his head along the headrest to face Toren and smiled at him. “What are the odds?”