Mack raised his glass. “I want to start out by thanking Keith Olander for closing this transaction, against many obstacles. Not only is he great at his job, but he’s truly one of the good guys.” Mack took a sip and everyone else followed suit, and the room resonated with the clinking of glasses and people calling out Keith’s name.

One of the good guys. What did that even mean? In this crowd, the bar was pretty low. Keith wasn’t an adulterer, he was generous at bonus time and he didn’t yell at his people. But did all that add up to make him good?

What would happen if people found out about the SEC investigation? The reputation he’d worked so hard to build would be tarnished in an instant. Jaya had always warned him to be extra careful with every expense report, in every interaction with subordinates who might be sensitive to criticism. He’d always believed that she just didn’t understand the culture of investment banking and the people who populated it—the crude language, the yelling at analysts like it was military boot camp, the punishment of long hours and work overloads that simply came with the territory. He hadn’t yet told Robbie Weiss, his boss and CEO of the firm, but he would need to soon if the investigation proceeded. With heaviness settling in his stomach, Keith recalled his father’s words: “Don’t pre-worry. Deal with it when it happens.” This had been his mantra every time creditors came calling or a business started heading south. And where did that advice get him? Keith always thought it made his father a coward, the way he shirked from his impending failures, but he supposed that depended on how you defined success.

* * *

Later, over drinks at the bar, Mack and the team ribbed Keith about the attractive bartender who kept flirting with him. Mostly married themselves, these guys loved to live vicariously through Keith, whom they imagined bringing home a different woman every night. They had no idea how it really felt to be alone in a hotel room, flipping aimlessly through TV channels to fill the few hours between work and sleep, knowing that no one was waiting for a good-night phone call from him or would anticipate his flight home the next day. These guys envied his freedom, but they didn’t understand how draining dating could be—the dance of figuring out someone new, the mishaps of expectations and communication that inevitably arose. And it didn’t sit right with him, to be seen as a swinger rather than a husband and father. It was a reminder that he’d failed at his most important life roles. Without satisfying the guys’ prurient interests, Keith excused himself for the night on the pretext of his early morning flight.

Alone in his room, Keith stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to put his finger on what had left him feeling so unsettled. He wanted desperately to talk with someone about what was going on. Perhaps if he just shared the bad news, voiced his darkest fears, he would feel better. He couldn’t tell anyone associated with his work, of course. Keith picked up his phone and began scrolling, realizing how few people on his VIP list weren’t work related. He scrolled past his lawyer’s name, Karina’s (obviously not), and hesitated when he reached Jaya’s. She was in India right now, but he wished he could speak to her as he used to. It had been four years since their divorce, but the aching loss of her in his life still felt nearly as strong. He shook his head. That person he was remembering was gone now. He didn’t know how this Jaya would react, with her newfound sense of piety and righteousness. She may not have room in her mind anymore for the gray zone of Keith’s life and work. She certainly didn’t have room in her heart.