His willingness to take his well-being seriously had gone out the window since she’d re-entered his life.
“Another?” Sasha arched a judgmental brow and that disbelief spread to the rest of her face. Dayton nodded as she swiped the collection of empty glasses scattered before him, managing to aim a finger despite both of her hands being full of barware. “I’m cutting you off after this one, Merino.”
Nathan slapped him on the back and the abruptness of the contact ripped him from the clutches of his subconscious and delivered him unto reality: a weeknight at The Rusted Monkey. He now had a beard, which he kept at a reasonable length, but even so it was unruly and incongruous with his overall look. It was a sign of his marriage taking root. He and Charlaine were together, settled. No need to impress.
“I haven’t seen you drink like this in a while,” Nathan said, hand curled around his sweating beer. “You better let me drive you home. You don’t want to wreck your new Bruce Wayne car, end up like the last one.”
Dayton’s fingers flew to the swooping scar on his collarbone. Fractured memories of that evening played through his head. The torrents of rain. The day’s waning light.
Tyler’s car wrapped around the impenetrable trunk of the Western Red Cedar. His own car, totaled and flipped among the slicken banks of grass and forest rot. The musky smell of the air mixed with exhaust and the tang of copper in his mouth. The day that his game of research had gone too far.
Events he’d never be absolved of no matter how often he sought confession.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s alright,” Dayton clipped.
He and Nathan were still getting their footing around each other. His distasteful display at the wedding had spelled disaster for their friendship, but with time and space the rift was mended. When fall classes resumed, he’d texted Dayton and asked to get a drink.
They’d met faithfully every week since.
“So, I have some big news. We’re expecting.”
The statement dragged along his eardrums like a knife. Grazing but never puncturing the sensitive membrane. He sat dreading a pain that never arrived and yet he was awash with a mix of emotions he was reluctant to claim as his own.
“Parenthood.” Dayton said the word slowly. It spread on his tongue like poison. “Congratulations.”
Sasha slung a fresh drink to him across the bar. Vodka sloshed over the rim. “That’s it buddy.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Got any advice for me?” Nathan asked.
“What advice do you expect me to give? I’m an aging bachelor who’s rarely been given a glance of a real relationship. I’m undomesticated. Wild. But you, you’re a pedigree, and this father business? You were born and bred for it.”
“You really think so?”
“I do.”
Nathan drained the rest of his beer and stuffed a wad of singles in the tip jar. His eyes sparkled with amusement behind the lenses of his glasses. “I may have entertained your little look the other way act just now but, you forget, I know you. You’re pissed off about something so how about you quit BS’ing me and tell me what’s up.”
The vodka flowed over his lips. He drank and drank without taking a breath, drowning in the stinging liquid. Dayton slammed the tumbler onto the counter, startling the patrons on either side of them and earning a pointed glare from Sasha as she cashed him out.
“I hired an office assistant.”
“That’s great, right? You said it’s been a logistical nightmare without one, having to juggle everything on your own. So, this begs the question, why aren’t you relieved?”
He stared at the melting ice cubes and lime wedge resting in the glass. He couldn’t look at Nathan during the deliverance of this truth.
“It’s Kenna.” More quietly, he repeated, “I hired Kenna.”
“Jesus H., Dayton.” Nathan went silent for a long moment, lifting his glasses and shielding his eyes. “Some of the faculty had the nerve to approach me and ask if you guys were still a thing. I guess they remember how chummy you and I were. I don’t tell them anything because I don’tknowanything. Among the colorful things you said at my reception, you confided to me, in private, that you loved her.” He made steady eye contact, daring him to deny it. “Were you serious?”
“I still have feelings for her.”
“Come on, man, she’s a kid.”
While he often jokingly referred to Kenna as ‘kid,’ Nathan’s more literal meaning struck a nerve.