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She’d been awake most of the night, because he had been too, but where he was everyday sleep-deprived, nothing a good, brisk walk wouldn’t fix, Flick was pale and seemed fragile.
That was what’d shocked him most. How the light and sound and energy of her had spun out to nothing leaving her bleached blank, a bad clone missing all the key ingredients of the essential Flick. It was unnerving to see her so drawn and to be deprived of her easy chatter.
But she needed to sleep and she needed to feel, and if he stuck around he might mess with that, so he went to work.
He only remembered long silences in the house and being sad after Mom died, but with an adult’s lens he knew her death changed Dad. Made him fearful, turned him into a harsher disciplinarian, hoping Tom would be protected from the randomness of the universe if he didn’t make snap decisions, stray outside the lines. Tom knew it explained a lot about himself.
Flick’s relationship with Drew wasn’t something he was easy with, but the man was as much a friend as surrogate parent, and there was nothing fake about Flick’s grief. The least Tom could do was be there for her. Provide whatever consolation she’d accept. It put his own crisis of faith into perspective. He was no worse off today than before Harry un-retired, but Flick’s world had been pulled inside out and left her raw and exposed.
Wren appeared in his office doorway, five minutes after he’d doffed his suit coat and logged on. “Are you sick?”
“Nope.”
“You’re late. You missed a team update.”
“Thank you for that stunningly original observation. I can see why we pay you the big bucks.”
She rolled her eyes. Her shoes were zebra-striped and had red pom-poms on the toes. “I’m glad to see you.”
“You saw me yesterday. What made you think you wouldn’t see me today?”
“That would be the you’re-late thing, and since it follows from the thirty-five-unanswered-messages-I-sent-you-over-the-weekend thing, you might see the reason for my concern.”
“No.” He looked at his screen but she didn’t take the hint and go away, so he relented. “I’m cool. I haven’t blown a fuse. I’m not going to do anything rash.” In fact, it was an insult she thought he might. “You could have asked me this yesterday.”
“I was observing yesterday. Besides, you were in meetings all day and I hardly caught sight of you. Josh was worried, but you don’t seem as bent out of shape as I thought you might be, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Your career got—” She mimed something being ripped up and tossed away.
“Any time you want to go back to billing a client would be fine by me.”
“How is Flick? Is she still fine by you?”
“That.” A flash of Flick’s face, drawn and shuttered, the way she’d tucked herself into him in bed last night and held on tight, interrupted his thought.
“That?” Wren prompted.
“That’s over.” It didn’t feel over so much as changed, but into what?
“Oh.”
“It was never on. She’s leaving soon.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“What is it with the third degree?”
“Shoot me for being concerned about you. I’ll stop now. I’m convinced you’re the regular grumpy Tom we all know and struggle to love, not a hyper version with vengeance on the brain. While I have your attention, we have a six-thirty meeting with Amtech.”
Regular grumpy? Vengeance? “We?”
“Us.”
“I got my career trashed on Friday. I went hiking all weekend. I was late in this morning. Do I look like a guy who wants a six-thirty meeting?”
“Um?”
