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“Hey, Asher,” I reply, accepting his offered hand and slap on the back. “Haven’t seen you around much.”
Asher nods somberly. “I try to remain a man of mystery. Although not as much as you, from what I hear.”
“You mean, the secret baby?” Flynn asks. “How did you find out? Because my best friend waited five months to casually tell me at a bar, ‘I’ll have a kid pretty soon, so we won’t get to do this as often.’”
I grimace. I blew baby announcements all around.
Asher laughs. “I found out frommybest friend at six a.m.—I was in Shanghai—freaking the fuck out about a box he had seen.”
I sigh. “I wasgoingto tell him.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not sure anything was going to cushion that surprise,” Asher says. “Nice talking to you, Flynn. I’m home for the next couple of weeks, so I’ll stop by your office soon, Kit. Catch up more.”
“Sounds great,” I reply. “See you then.”
“Good talking to you too, Asher,” Flynn says.
Asher heads for his office.
I continue toward the elevators, Flynn falling into step beside me.
“I was on time,” I tell my best friend.
Flynn’s lips quirk. “I noticed.”
“I thought we were meeting at the bar.”
We reach the elevators, so I press the Down button.
“We were,” he agrees. “But I wanted to see if your new assistant is as hot as your old one.”
I scowl as we step inside the elevator and start to descend.
“Relax. I’m kidding. Well, not about Collins being hot. That partis?—”
“Are youtryingto piss me off?”
Flynn blows out a long breath. “I’m bored, okay? All I had to do today was meet you, so I was early.”
We’re both silent for a minute. A silence exacerbated by the enclosed space.
“I’m really sorry, Flynn,” I say. “I know I’ve been a shitty friend lately. There’s just been … I’ve had a lot going on.”
I’m sure Flynn expected this year to be a continuation of the summer. Us living in the city, partying on the weekends, and taking trips whenever we felt like it. We were each other’s wingman, sidekick, and comrade … until I got a new partner. And I’ve been so preoccupied with everything else that I haven’t taken the time to look at things from Flynn’s perspective. This is only the second time we’ve hung out since I told him about Collins and the baby.
“It’s fine. Don’t apologize. I get it.”
“Iamapologizing, man. Seriously. I’ve sucked lately as a friend, and I’m sorry.”
“We’re cool, Kit,” he insists.
“Should I text Camden?” I ask. “Or did you drive?”
“I walked,” Flynn tells me.
I stare at him. “For real?”
Flynn lives on the Upper West Side. About thirty blocks from here.