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"With another woman?"
"With myself."
"Oh." Imogen blushes too. "When was that?"
"Last night. She apologized and ran to her bedroom. She got up before I did, snuck out of the place. We haven't talked since."
"She was embarrassed?" Imogen asks.
"I think so, but I was a little… distracted." His blush deepens. "I didn't catch everything."
"You're travel partners. It happens."
"But she…" He clears his throat. "I think she heard me."
"Your sounds?" She keeps a straight face.
"Her name," he says. "I said it."
"You were thinking about her?" she asks.
"To rid myself of the impulse. 'Cause we're friends and I'd never put that in jeopardy," he says. "Never."
"You like her?" she asks.
"It doesn't matter," he says. "It can't happen."
"Tell her that," she says.
"Won't that sound like bullshit? 'I know you caught me stroking the sausage thinking of you but pretend it never happened.'"
"Oh my god." She collects herself.
A door opens. On his end this time.
"Fuck," he says.
"Just be honest with her," she says. "Even if it's hard. Especially if it's hard. You're good friends. You can make it through anything if you're honest."
"Yeah. Maybe. Have fun with Tricky." He closes the laptop and the call ends.
She lets out a soft sigh. "You think he'll be okay?"
"Not if he keeps lying to himself," I say.
"I guess you'd know."
"Hey." I wrap my hand around her thigh. "You're sweet to talk to him."
"I'm not sure I helped," she says.
"Probably helped more than I did," I say.
"I guess the results will show the overall level of our help."
"What do you think will happen?"
"I don't know them that well."
