“You know why I think you’d be upset. I’d be upset, too. I just want you to know that I’m not...this is not anything but...courtesy.” I step in close to her now that we’re alone again. “I’d much rather be with you tonight.” I press my nose into the soft skin of her throat but her arms don’t come around my back like I hoped they would.

“I saw him today.”

“Saw who?”

“I saw Paul. At a coffee shop.”

“So?”

She shakes her head. “Don’t you think it’s weird that I saw him? We talked about you and then he sets up a meeting with you?”

“I guess the timing is a little strange...”

She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat.

“What are you insinuating?”

She paces back and forth, shoulders hunched. “Nothing. I don’t know.”

I try to catch her sleeve as she paces past. “Is it okay if I come over after?” I ask. “I took a look at the numbers today and I want to talk about a plan for moving forward.”

Amy stops, folding her arms over her chest. She’s like the three raccoons in a trench coat version of herself. Twitchy and uncomfortable and unable to stop fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s fine, just don’t...” She slams her mouth shut and looks away, so I wait.

“Don’t what?” I say. Without realizing it, I’ve crossed my arms, too. I shake them out, but I have the sinking suspicion that this is our first fight.

“Don’t tell him any more about how our business is failing.”

Amy doesn’t wait for me to respond. Her lips are still curled in a snarl as she leaves, letting the door fall closed with a loud clap behind her. For far too long, I’m just confused. I’ve never told Paul that this business was failing. We’ve barely spoken for any length of time since...since I told him that we were applying for the show.

“Shit.” I pound my fist against my locker, not very hard, and not out of anger. Just because I’m really that dumb. In the moment I knew it was the wrong thing to do. I knew she’d react exactly like this.

Amy’s car is gone after I close up, and I make it to Frank’s ten minutes late, but Paul sits at the bar, nursing a scotch. The restaurant is all dark wood and low lighting, leather seats and the kind of staff uniform that immediately makes them noticeable if you’re looking for them but helps them fade into the background if you’re not. It’s the kind of place that you can tell serves every cut of steak imaginable, without ever having to look at the menu.

I don’t look at him when I climb onto the stool beside him. I can’t decide if I’m angry at him or not and I can’t look at him until I decide. Why would he mention it to Amy at all? He’d have to know she’d feel embarrassed. Unless that was his purpose?