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“Fuck,” I muttered, dropping my head in my hands. “What a fucking pair.”
Someone cleared their throat next to me, and I looked up to see a woman holding her young daughter’s hand, looking at me scornfully.
“Sorry,” I murmured. The woman’s eyes went wide as she clearly recognized me, so I stood and walked away. The Cloisters would be closing in a few minutes anyway, and I realized that with our detour we’d be trying to get back downtown in peak rush-hour traffic. Just thinking about it made me tired.
When I caught up with Dave, he was clearly thinking the same thing, as he scanned his traffic app, which was already choked with red, the veins and arteries of Manhattan glutted.
“Should we brave it, or wait it out?” Dave asked.
“I’d— Wait, when is your shift over?” Dave bit his lip. “Oh, shit, man, I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“No, I can’t believe I did this. Fuck, I’m such an asshole. I really am sorry. I should’ve asked earlier, and—”
“Mr. Decker, seriously. Don’t worry about it. I’m glad I got to go to The Cloisters. And, uh, if I’m honest…” He ran a hand through his hair, bashful. “I’m kind of a big fan, so it was nice to meet you.”
“Thanks for that. I still…man, I’m really sorry. Make sure you get overtime! Here, wait, I’ll tell Dougal right now.”
Dave reached out to stop me, but I texted Dougal anyway.
“Well,” Dave said. “Since I’m already off the clock and you clearly don’t have anywhere you’re trying to be, should we just wait it out?”
I nodded miserably.
“Okay. So, tell me about how you met your wife.”
* * *
—
I trudged through the doors of my building hours later, having waited out the worst of the traffic with Dave, then having him drop me at Pier 25 because I wanted some fresh air and a bit of a walk before I got home. In the dark, I didn’t think I’d be likely to be recognized.
Now it was nearly ten, I was starving, and I just wanted to crawl into bed. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact that when I woke up tomorrow, I didn’t have anything to do. Nothing was planned for me—no photo shoots or press junkets, no recording sessions or merch meetings, no schmoozing and no planning.
No Riven.
I was surprised to see Antony at the front desk, since he didn’t usually come on shift until 11 P.M.
“Mr. Decker,” Antony said with a dip of his chin.
“Hey, Antony. You’re on early tonight, huh?”
“Yes, sir. Willis asked if I could cover a few hours, so here I am.”
He cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable for the first time since I’d known him. I racked my brain to see if I’d forgotten to tip him or left anything weird in the lobby that would make him uncomfortable, but there was nothing I could think of.
“You okay?”
“Um, Mr. Decker, I…took a liberty I perhaps shouldn’t have.”
I couldn’t help smiling at his overly formal speech. Those damned crossword puzzles.
“Uh, okay, what’s up?”
“I find myself unsure whether you would want me to tell you or allow this to play out. It’s difficult to know with these sorts of gestures sometimes.”
“Antony. Is there some crazed fan waiting in my apartment to kill me or something? Because I’ll pay you double whatever they did.”
I winked at him, but his eyebrows shot up.
“Wait, there’s not, right?”
“Well, I admit I didn’t consider that perhaps he was a crazed fan.”
“Who?”
Antony straightened his already straight tie.
“Your friend with the guitar.”
I swallowed hard.
“Caleb? Is Caleb here?”
Antony looked pained.
“It’s okay if he is. I know you’ve let him in a hundred times. If you let him in while I wasn’t here, it’s fine.”
A tight nod.
“Okay, cool, thanks. I’ll just…” I pointed up. “Thanks, Antony.”
As I rode the elevator I felt my heart fluttering. I’d tried to call Caleb all week, but he hadn’t answered. I knew he just needed his space sometimes when he was upset. He liked to figure things out for himself. That, at least, was what I’d been telling myself ever since I’d given myself a talking-to in The Cloisters. That he was just doing what he did—panicking, and then we would talk. It was all I had been holding onto.
But now, I had to face the fact that something was about to change. I had the wild thought that the reason Antony was so anxious might be that Caleb was here to really end things. And he’d told Antony because…I don’t know why. My mind was constructing more and more elaborate ways that Caleb might be about to smash my heart to smithereens, and as I put the key in the lock, my hand shook as badly as it had the first time I brought Caleb here, the night we met.
