Teagan had called ahead to confirm there would be a vegan option for dinner, but this vegan option turned out to consist of an undressed green salad and a second helping of seven-grain dinner rolls with margarine.
Darcy had calmly retrieved some trail mix from her purse to supplement her meager rations, but stewing on his inability to even provide proper food for her gave Teagan something to think about beyond the press of the attention of a dozen other people at their table.
He hadn’t thought through how he’d respond to everyone who wanted to know about his drinking problem, his stay in rehab, his new sober companion. He hadn’t realized how interested people would be, or how free they’d feel to ask him all kinds of intrusive questions.
If he actually had possessed any interesting drinking stories, perhaps he would have wanted to talk about the things he would never do again. Since he didn’t, his only options were lying through his teeth or adopting a haunted expression and muttering that it was still difficult to talk about his journey, as one friend of his mother’s put it.
Hearing how proud everyone was of him, when he had done exactly nothing heroic, was possibly even harder than it would have been to state that he’d skipped town for a month over some garden-variety anxiety.
Everyone had anxiety. Everyone was stressed. This was New York. He wasn’t special.
But that was the whole point of his ridiculous charade, wasn’t it? Recovering alcoholics got welcomed back to their jobs and their friendships. Nobody called you a hero when you got discharged from inpatient psychiatric treatment.
“When did you know you’d hit rock bottom?” asked Patricia Hausauer, who’d once donated a pair of Peter Max sketches that his mother later consigned to Nora’s gallery at half the price they’d appraised for.
Teagan poked at his salmon in Bearnaise sauce, wondering where the fire alarm was and how many people would be inconvenienced if he pulled it.
“You know, it’s a misconception that an alcoholic has to hit rock bottom before seeking help,” Darcy leaned in to answer for him.
She’d done a lot of that this evening. Redirecting. She had an endless supply of stories about rowdy sailors, rabid opossums, and lost yuppies that she shoehorned into conversation whenever Nora tried to bring up her art contact at Sotheby’s or one of his mother’s friends tried to pin him down on serving on a new planning committee for a different fundraiser. Teagan wanted to kiss her for it, except that he was sorry he’d put her through this evening at all.
“All you really have to do is recognize you want help with your drinking. That’s where you start,” Darcy added, swallowing a bite of dry arugula.
Most of the people at the table looked very impressed with that answer, but Nora leaned over Teagan to guilelessly ask where Darcy had trained as a sober companion, a certain steely glint in her eye.
“Is it a difficult job?” Nora pressed.
Darcy recognized what Nora was doing and narrowed her eyes. Teagan would put all his money on Darcy in a proper fight, but Nora had spent her whole life training in the dark arts of Manhattan snobbery. Darcy looked around the table uncomfortably before answering.
“I started by working with a psychologist at a wellness retreat—”
“Oh, but you aren’t a psychologist yourself?” Nora asked sweetly.
Darcy flushed.
“No, but—”
“What did you study, then?” Nora asked. “And where?”
Teagan unobtrusively hooked Darcy’s ankle with his own, hoping to get a little warning before she started flipping tables. Where did you go to school, again? could be considered fighting words if the subject hadn’t attended an Ivy.
“Darcy’s studying wildlife sciences,” he said, hoping to preempt the need to carry Darcy away from the banquet. “So her approach has been wilderness therapy. Lots of work outdoors, nature lectures, mindfulness.”
“Oh really?” Mrs. Hausauer leaned in to ask, sounding interested. “How are the two connected?”
Teagan was stumped on that, but Darcy took a long draught from her water glass, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and slowly answered. “Well, it’s just like when you release rehabbed wildlife. After you’ve finished the veterinary assessment, you have to ask yourself, is this a suitable habitat? Does the animal have the necessary skills to thrive? Is it going to disrupt a stable population in the area? But, you know, with Teagan instead.”
Teagan thought Darcy’s approach had been based more on physical interception of any possible sources of alcohol, but what she said had sounded very plausible.
“Fascinating,” Mrs. Hausauer said. “And that’s been effective for you?”
“I think so,” Darcy said, shooting him an only slightly dubious look.
“Darcy’s done a great job,” Teagan said more forcefully, casting a warning glare at Nora. “I can’t imagine doing this without her.”
That smear of pink on Darcy’s cheeks spread to her ears. She looked down at her greens, avoiding Mrs. Hausauer’s speculative look as the older woman shook her head.
“You know, my son, Jamie, had a little too much fun during his year abroad in Barcelona. He’s been blowing off his classes at NYU. I wish he had someone to help him reacclimate to the real world,” she said.
Teagan felt a drop of inspiration fall on his head: an idea about Darcy working in Manhattan, in a job that didn’t depend on Teagan’s alleged alcohol dependency.
“Are you interested in a sober companion for Jamie?” he asked.
“Well, maybe,” Mrs. Hausauer said, looking again at Darcy. “If she’s not already fully booked with you.”
“I am though,” Darcy said immediately.
“Only through November. Or even sooner, potentially,” Teagan said.
“Definitely through the end of November,” Darcy said, frowning at him.
Teagan cut his eyes at Darcy, trying to silently urge her to consider a job that could keep her in Manhattan for several more months. She screwed up her mouth in distaste.
“Do you have a card?” Mrs. Hausauer asked, oblivious to the sudden tension.
“Take mine,” Teagan said, pulling one out of his wallet despite Darcy’s look of consternation. Darcy feinted as though she was going to intercept it, but then her eyes landed on Sloane, at Teagan’s left, who’d been playing with her phone while drinking champagne since they sat down. Darcy reached across Teagan’s lap and lifted Sloane’s two wine glasses to put them toward the elaborate floral centerpiece, making the silverware rattle.
“Hey! That’s your third,” Darcy stage-whispered to Sloane. “You’re cut off now.”
“I’m taking a taxi home,” Sloane protested.
“I don’t care. It’s not your birthday. Three’s plenty,” Darcy said, in a tone that brooked no disputes.
The entire twelve-seat table had gone silent to watch the interaction.
“The technique in action! That’s a free sample, I suppose,” Nora said to her stone-faced fiancé, not very quietly.
Everyone at the table lifted their eyebrows at Darcy’s breach of table etiquette, and Sloane scowled, but it occurred to Teagan that if anyone had been willing to risk a little social unrest to take his mother’s drinks—or at least her car keys—out of her hands, she’d be here tonight instead of Teagan.
“Thank you,” Teagan said to Darcy. Then he set his shoulders and looked at Mrs. Hausauer. “I’ll call you when I get the all-clear to talk about your son.”
As was typical at these fundraisers, there was a series of speeches. While they ate, the speakers introduced each other. The director of community giving introduced the chair of the board, who thanked him for introducing her. They then thanked each other. The chair introduced an art teacher, who thanked the chair and also the director. They agreed that they had all done a good job and worked very hard on the evening’s event. Additional thanks were exchanged.
After the guests were served coffee and tiny slices of cheesecake, the crowd dispersed to look over the silent auction again.
Darcy stood up as soon as the first person left their table, her body radiating agitation. Teagan tossed his napkin over his place and chased after her, catching her by the fire exit. It was alarmed; he steered her toward the main doors.
“Can we go now?” she snapped at him. “Or do you need to spend more time sucking up to Nora while she fondles you in front of her fiancé?”
“It’s not on my schedule. It wasn’t on my schedule. And you don’t want to talk to Patricia Hausauer about her son?” he asked, even though the answer seemed to be, unfortunately, no.
“No! No, I do not want to apply to babysit some snotty-nosed college brat.”
“Okay, well, what if it was someone else? Someone older? I can ask around, put the word out—”
“Jesus! Are you trying to get rid of me already?” Darcy burst out.
“No,” Teagan said immediately, but Darcy ignored him. “You’re going to need another job soon. You said you liked this one. I thought I could help—”
“Sorry that I’m cramping your style. You’re just going to have to accept sobriety until December,” she said, walking faster.
They passed through the lobby and into the cool air of the Midtown night, redolent of exhaust and hot trash.
“No,” he said again. “No, no, no, wait. I’m not trying to—I’m glad you’re helping me. I just thought, maybe you’d like to line up another job, and I could be flexible on the timing.”
I just thought you might like a reason to stay nearby.
“I have a job until December,” Darcy repeated stubbornly. “And I have plenty of applications in to do real work after that.”
He wished he had a good argument for why she was wrong.
“This is a one-time deal. This is not a skill set I’m interested in developing. These people suck, and so do their parties. I can tell everyone thought my job was bullshit,” she continued, stalking down the street.
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Teagan said, trying to keep up with her. “Half of them could probably use a hard think about their own drinking.”
“Well, I’m not the girl to make them,” Darcy said sourly. “You know what? Just don’t even tell them what I do. I don’t want to talk to anyone about it. Just say I’m your girlfriend.”
Teagan stopped dead in his tracks.
“Is that what you are?” he asked, surprised and suddenly light-headed. He hadn’t thought that. He hadn’t dated anyone seriously in a couple of years, but he hadn’t ever been under the impression that a relationship firmed up just because you’d seen someone naked a few times. But he was often wrong about what Darcy thought, and he was willing to be told he was wrong about this too.
Darcy turned around and put her hands on her hips.
“Oh I—I just meant that was something you could tell people,” she said, face clouding with confusion.
“Right,” Teagan said, feeling very foolish. “Never mind.”
He clenched his jaw and began walking again. Darcy had never said a thing about wanting to know him past the time she decided that he was sober for good. And since he already was, he was on borrowed time anyway.
“Teagan,” Darcy said from feet behind him.
“What,” he said, not slowing.
Darcy caught up to him.
“You didn’t think—”
“No.”
“Teagan,” she said again, and her voice was guarded but so gentle that this time he did stop. “Look, I don’t even know where I’m going to be living next—and you know long distance doesn’t ever work.”
“I don’t know that,” Teagan said, even though he hadn’t until this moment considered that possibility with Darcy, as focused on the idea of finding her a job near New York as he’d been. “How do you know that?”
“I was in the Navy for seven years. I saw everything from a guy who came back from a six-month deployment to find his wife three months pregnant to a girl who checked her credit card bill from Bahrain and found out her boyfriend was tipping strippers with her combat pay.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Teagan immediately said. “You can’t think I would do anything like that.”
“You’re so sure I wouldn’t either?” Darcy said, crossing her arms.
Teagan paused and thought about everything he knew about Darcy. He couldn’t imagine it. She was impulsive and she made mistakes, but he’d yet to see her do anything she ever thought was wrong.
Not like him.
“You wouldn’t either,” he said, even as guilt wiped out his building anger at her disinterest in being part of his life.
Darcy’s mouth twisted to the side. “Okay, maybe you’re right, and maybe I wouldn’t. Shit, I don’t know. Nobody’s ever stuck it out long enough to even give me the opportunity. But you hadn’t even thought about it before tonight either. So why don’t you think about it first before you start making any more promises you have to keep?”
That was more of an opening than he’d ever gotten so far.
“It wouldn’t be hard to keep that promise,” he said. “And I did. Think about it. Or at least, I was thinking about you and me. I think about you all the time. That wouldn’t change if you moved somewhere else.”
Darcy ducked her chin to her chest. She twisted away to the side, as unspeaking as she ever was whenever he got brave enough to tell her the smallest part of how he felt about her. He got the sense that she would have pulled her hair over her face to hide if they hadn’t been in the middle of the sidewalk. It took her long seconds to speak, and she didn’t look at him when she did.
“You know I’m not going anywhere until you’re well, right?” she offered. “I won’t bail out on you while you’re still in recovery.”
Teagan briefly closed his eyes, not really reassured. He wasn’t ever going to be recovered. He was going to feel like this the rest of his life. And if Darcy really left in December, he didn’t think he’d recover from that, maybe not ever.
But he still had most of three months to work on it.
“I know that,” he said simply.
Darcy twisted back to lean against him. The weight of his body was anchoring.
She tugged on his tie and pressed her knuckles into his stomach, her teeth cutting into her lower lip.
“I’m tired of this place,” she mumbled into his chest. “I don’t know why anyone lives in the city.”
“I was born here,” he said. “I guess I never really thought about living anywhere else.”
He wished he could picture it. He wished he could imagine anything other than this.
Darcy looked up at him through her thick, dark eyelashes.
“Hey, here’s another idea. You know those little frozen fruits that are stuffed with fruit sorbet?”
“Yeah?” Teagan asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pushing his face against her temple. He loved hearing Darcy’s escape plans, even if he’d realized that part of what she was escaping was any thought of permanency, with him or otherwise.
“They have a factory in Florida. We can rent a house on the water, work in the sorbet factory, and eat mangoes on the beach,” she said, tone conveying utter sincerity.
“Hmm. Florida,” he said. “My hair doesn’t handle the humidity well. It sticks straight up, and I look like a muppet.”
Darcy heaved a sigh. “All right, so that’s out. I’ll keep pondering.”
“Please do,” Teagan said. He kissed her forehead, then turned back to the street. It was well after rush hour. Taxis streaked by at high speed, and the lingering pedestrians were rushing past them in the cool dark. He thought about Darcy’s map, which way she’d want to head for the station.
Darcy tugged on his tie again. “Hey. I have a plan for tonight, at least,” she said. A predatory smile spread across her face. “You wanna go home and screw around in the hot tub? It probably works just like a shower.”
Teagan laughed. It wasn’t half of what he wanted from her. But that did sound amazing.
“God, yes,” he said. “Let’s take a cab.”