He was still mulling over where to put the baby’s bedroom in his apartment. One thing was certain, they weren’t going to put the crib in his bedroom because he wasn’t planning to take time off and couldn’t afford to have his sleep interrupted. It was amazing, really, the way Brian managed to avoid ever mentioning Joyce or any decisions that they were making as a couple or plans the two of them had ever made together. Given what had happened in Desmond’s room a couple of weeks ago, you wouldn’t expect him to go into a lengthy description of their happy marriage, but you’d think he might mess up once or twice and let the name slip out. Desmond found it hard to listen to the two-mouthed behemoths Melanie had mentioned in Morning in America before he left town, the ones who spoke exclusively in the first person plural, but there was something about Brian’s refusal to acknowledge his wife’s existence that was eerie. It must have been exhausting dodging “us” and “we” as if they were poisoned darts. The whole thing was surprisingly unbecoming.

“What does Joyce think about the baby’s room?”

“You know, Desmond, I really didn’t call to talk about the baby’s room, okay? I called because I have a little free time this afternoon around four, and I was wondering if you’d like to get together. I could drop over.”

“I have a couple of appointments here at school,” Desmond said. “And then there’s a department meeting of some kind at four.” Specifically, the kind of department meeting to which he hadn’t been invited. “So I’m afraid I won’t be home until much later in the evening.”

It sounded as if Brian’s receptionist had come into his office. There was a discussion about a client on another line, and then he said, “Well, tell them I’ll call back, I’m busy.” When the door had clicked shut, he said, “Not that I’m counting, Desmond, but this is the third time I’ve suggested we get together and the third time you haven’t been available. So frankly, as I see it, three strikes and you’re out.”

Desmond preferred to think that Brian was the one who’d struck out, but that was nitpicking. “It’s too awkward,” Desmond said. “Joyce is about to deliver, I’m working with Jane . . .”

“That might be so, but I wish you’d thought of that before you invited me back to your place that day and came on so strongly.”