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And then, there’s his son.
“What about your son?” I ask. “Does this affect your sleeping arrangements or is he staying with your ex this week?”
The last question seems to spoil his mood. He leans back, narrowing his eyes, and starts tapping his fingers on the table. “I have sole custody, actually. But I can make arrangements for those three days.”
Sole custody? The divorce must have been worse than he implied. “You are raising him alone? Why?”
Brian nods with a sad smile. “Jane woke up one day and decided she wanted to live a different life. So she left.”
When he told me why his marriage failed, I knew that he was not telling the whole story. But this? I cannot tell if the pain in his voice is only for his son or for himself as well. He mentioned her as a simple one-night stand but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love her. I shift in my seat, trying to organize my thoughts. “And your son? Does he know?”
The thought of a little boy being abandoned by his mother, just like that, sounds cruel. And it’s almost the same cruelty—that same, deep rejection—that Brian experienced growing up.
“Well, it’s been almost four years, and he didn’t know her much before she left. He sees her every now and then, but those meetings are less and less frequent. And I’m glad, to be honest—every time he comes back depleted.”
“Then, leaving him—” The last thing I want is for that little boy to feel alone, even if it’s just for three days.
“I have a nanny who takes care of him while I work. There have been other instances when I had to travel so I know he will be just fine. This is not something strange for him, don’t worry.”
That does sound better but there’s another burning question on my mind. “How old is he?” I finally ask. Brian mentioned that the boy was five months old back then, but still… I want to make sure, to know that at least he didn’t cheat on me, that what we had was real.
“Six and a half.” His smile turns into a grin, and he immediately pulls out his phone, tapping on it until he finds a photo of his son.
I look at his screen where a mini-Brian is staring back at me. His face is round, with rosy cheeks and huge light brown eyes, with just a touch of green in them. His hair is even messier than Brian’s and his tiny hands are frozen mid-wave, covered in all sorts of colors. He’s perfect.
I feel pain on my face, around my mouth, and realize I’m smiling from ear to ear. “Daniel, right? He’s very cute. And he looks like you. I don’t think you needed to do a DNA test.”
“Now, yes, it’s obvious, but when Jane brought him to me, he was just a little baby. I had to be sure before I—”
He stops and takes a sip of his drink, and I do the same, enjoying the soft burning sensation. He needed to make sure before he uprooted his life for his son.
“What’s he like?” I ask with a real need to know more. The awkwardness disappears as Brian tells me all about his son with a passion I don’t remember him having.
The food arrives as we talk, and it smells absolutely delicious, but I’m still not hungry. There seems to be a knot in my stomach that won’t go away no matter how hard I try. Brian eventually comments on my lack of appetite, but I slowly work my way through my plate to prove that I’m fine.
The topic shifts from his son to me but I shoot down his few attempts at a casual conversation one by one until I pluck up the courage to bring the topic back to the wedding. “Since you are okay with coming to the wedding, and the trip, shall we discuss your payment then?”
Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that while he was drinking. He coughs once, then twice, before staring at me wide-eyed. “What?”
Now, this is how my plan is supposed to go. Not the choking—the shock. And the expression of pure insult that starts to form on his face.
“We agreed that this is strictly a business deal. That means give and take, not a favor for a past…mistake.” Betrayal would have been more fitting, but he just choked on his drink, so I’ll give him a break.
His face is getting redder by the second and it looks like he’s about to start yelling but I know Brian’s not like that. He’s the kind of person who will either argue calmly until he’s destroyed you, or he’ll leave.
Huh. He’s going to leave. Again.
I don’t know why—maybe he saw something change in my expression—but his face relaxes immediately. “I get your point and I have to admit I also had some form of transaction in mind, as I said on the phone, although…” His voice trails off. “It didn’t feel right to ask.”
Interesting. “What kind of transaction?”
Brian clears his throat. “There’s a friend of mine, and I owe him a big favor, so…” He pauses and looks around him uncomfortably before continuing. “Let me start over. A friend of mine works at a large company and he’s noticed some discrepancies in the company’s finances. He can’t figure out why or how this is happening but he’s liable in case this blows up and he cannot prove his innocence. So, he needs someone to look over the numbers without drawing attention to what he or she is doing. I know this is your field of expertise. I mean, you were an excellent student.”
“What kind of favor do you owe him?” I ask, ignoring that last comment. “By the way, where do you work?”
This doesn’t make sense. Is he asking this for himself?
“He helped me during a very difficult time,” Brian replies. “I work at a firm that handles house restorations—the finances of it. That’s how I met Dennis.”
