In any other reality, I’d say no, but I can’t in this one. Saying no to my boss just isn’t an option.

“Sure, I can do that.”

“All right, I’ll send you the details and see you in the morning.”

“Sounds good. Have a good night.”

“You too.” He hangs up, and I head toward home, scanning the street for Francisca. Of course, I don’t see her. I never do.

When I get into the building, I don’t go to my apartment. I head up to my brother’s place on the top floor. I need a beer and someone to talk to. As I reach his door, I don’t use my key to let myself in like I would have before he got married. Instead, I knock and wait, loosening my tie, that feels like it’s strangling me.

“Dayton,” Willow answers the door with my nephew Rowen on her hip.

“Hey, is Clay here?” I take Rowen when he reaches for me and hold him against my chest.

“He is.” Her eyes wander over my face. “Is everything okay?”

“Just need to talk to him.”

“Sure,” she says quietly. “He’s in the office.”

“Thanks.” I move past her and head down the hall to his office, with Rowen kicking his legs and jabbering nonsense that I’m sure makes perfect sense to him.

When I push through the door to Clay’s office, he smiles at his son, who yells, “Dada!”

“Hey, little man.” Clay turns his chair as I put Rowen on his feet. His steps are still a little unsure, but he makes it across the room to his dad and falls against him.

As I watch my brother pick him up and kiss the side of his dark head, I feel something wrap so tightly around my insides it’s almost difficult to breathe.

“Everything okay?” Clay asks, and I focus on him.

“Just need a beer. You working?”

“I always have time for a beer.” He stands with Rowen, and the three of us leave his office, heading down the hall and through the living room and kitchen, where Willow is standing at the stove, cooking something while talking on the phone.

We then step into the playroom, which is not just a normal playroom, but a paradise for both kids and adults, with a park-size playset, swings, slides, a treehouse, a full bar, couches, and a huge TV. Clay grabs each of us a beer from the fridge, passing me one before walking over to a round ball pit to place Rowen inside it.

Hearing my nephew giggle and jabber, whatever has wrapped around my insides gets tighter.

“What’s up? And don’t say nothing because you look like you’re about to puke or pass the fuck out.”