When Colin steps into the cozy lights of the diner, all else slips away. The phone is momentarily forgotten. Lee is forgotten. Everything distills itself to the small space that separates us, a chasm that feels impossible and effortless all at once.
Our eyes meet at the same time. His are that dark, tempestuous blue, intense as ever. Like me, he looks stunned, breathless. I wonder if he’s waiting for me to bolt.
“Table for one?” the waitress barks at him like she barked at me, and Colin smiles his shy smile, which softens her up like butter on bread. Or maybe it’s the suit—a rich charcoal, tailored to perfection. A slim fit on his lean, powerful frame. The tie matches the flecks of gray in his irises, a subtle, classy color. I’ve never seen him in a suit before. Never seen him in much other than Speedos, T-shirts, and the army fatigues we salvaged from some stranger on Flight 149. I mean, wow. I just don’t know what else to say. He redefines the concept of cleaning up nicely. I pull my dad’s coat over my shoulders, suddenly ashamed of my beer-stained dress.
He slides into the booth, holding my gaze the whole time. It is Lee who breaks the silence, his voice coming over the speakerphone. I must have turned it on accidentally.
“Aves? Aves, are you there?”
“Yeah.”
Colin glances at the phone with the slightest bit of something—concern? Disappointment? Anguish?—and then it’s gone. I hand him the phone.
Lee sighs with great fanfare and continues to express his grievances, oblivious to what just happened. “Aves, look, this is bullshit—”
“Lee?” Colin’s voice is quiet but firm. It surprises me how familiar it sounds, as if I’d been listening to it all day long. “This is Colin.”
The pause is excruciating. “Colin? Colin Shea?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I ran into Avery at a diner in my neighborhood.”
This isn’t exactly true. According to the address on the menu, we’re technically in Quincy, a few streets over from Dorchester. Not like Lee would care about or even understand the distinction. Yesterday, he described Boston as a gravel spiderweb.
“You just ran into her? Was she alone?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” Lee muses on this for a while. “You’re sure there wasn’t a guy with her? Short, hairy, has a chubby face.”
“I didn’t see one.”
“Well, that doesn’t change the fact I’m gonna kick his ass—”
I take the phone from Colin. “Lee, don’t. It’s fine. I got away from him.”
Colin’s face pales at the same moment Lee asks, “You what?”
“Nothing. Look, can we sort this out tomorrow?”
“No.” Lee’s voice is tight, controlled. “I’m coming to pick you up.”
“In what? You’ve been drinking.”
“A cab. Gruder’ll call me one.”
“On New Year’s? Good luck.”
He takes this in, but his grunted response tells me he’s not happy about it. I hear Gruder say something along the lines of “You can crash here.” Part offering, part apology.
“Put Shea on the phone,” Lee says to me. “And take me off speaker.”
His clipped tone slices through me, but I do as he asks. Colin takes the phone, rubbing his clean-shaven chin as he listens to whatever Lee has to say. He nods a few times but otherwise says very little.
After a while, he hands the phone back to me. I bring it up to my ear, terrified of what’s to come, feeling the sting of sobriety all too soon.
Lee’s voice is barely a whisper. “I love you, Aves.”
Then he hangs up.