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I’m dialing Becky’s number before it really registers that I want to speak to her.
‘Drew. Hi.’ Her voice is mumbled, as if she’s holding the phone between her ear and shoulder. Then I hear a sound, as if she’s sucking her finger.
‘Are you making cupcakes?’
‘Bugger off, Drew. I don’t make cupcakes. But I am making cheesecake.’
‘What kind of cheesecake?’
‘Not that you’ll care, Dessert Hater, but it’s chocolate orange.’
‘That sounds kind of plain for you.’
‘That’s because you haven’t tasted my chocolate orange cheesecake before.’
‘I’m going to concede because I know it will be fantastic. I thought you weren’t working this week.’
‘I’m not. I’m in my apartment, but my next bucket-list item is the Empire State Building, and since you told me I must go up there at night, I have nothing better to do right now.’
‘Huh. Well, I’m glad you listened for a change.’
She giggles, and I give myself a second to indulge in the sound. ‘Becky, I’m calling to thank you for your advice last night.’
‘Did you give the other guy a case?’
‘I did. He smiled like a chubby kid eating one of your cakes.’
She’s laughing again. Heartily this time. It warms me from the inside out. ‘Well, Drew Harrington, budding master of the universe, I’m pleased you listened for a change.’
Now it is my turn to laugh. God, this feels good. Being around her makes me feel good. I should get back to work but I don’t want her to go yet. ‘What’s next on your list?’
‘After the Empire State? South Beach Boardwalk. Staten Island.’
‘When are you doing that?’
‘I don’t know. This weekend, maybe. Do you want to come?’
‘To Staten Island? This weekend?’
‘Ahh, yep.’
I remember Millie’s insistence that I go to Mom and Dad’s for Aunt Nellie’s sixtieth barbeque. Aunt Kathleen’s farts. Uncle Geoffrey’s snoring at the dinner table. Uncle Jack’s incessant whining about being the chef, even though he cremates the meat every time. It would be torture, but it’s been a long time, and Millie looked so disappointed when I said I’d think about it.
I take a deep breath before I suggest the most boneheaded thing in the world. ‘Well, you know my family lives out there. They want me to go this weekend. How about you get me through the torture of that, and I’ll show you South Beach properly?’
‘Ah, family? I, erm, I’m not sure, Drew. It’s just… I just…’
I’m an idiot. ‘Sorry. That was a stupid idea. Forget it. I have to go, Becky. Have a great time tonight.’
‘Drew—’
I hang up the phone and look at my Omega, wondering whether it’s legitimately late enough for scotch. What the hell was I thinking? Take her to meet my family?
Screw it. 11 a.m. is plenty late enough.
I take a crystal decanter from the bar table in the corner of my office – hey, this man works long hours. Before my glass of scotch reaches my lips, it is snatched away.
‘Far too early,’ Sarah says. ‘What’s going on?’ She opens my mini fridge and hands me a bottle of sparkling water.
