Page 195 of Broken Brothers

“Let me walk you back to your apartment,” I said, standing up and offering my hand. “I won’t sleep with you tonight. But I’ll treat you right.”

Layla got a hint of a smile as she took my hand. I lifted her up and began the slow walk back to her place. It was going to be another half hour of walking, but that was the point; an Uber or even the subway would have gotten her back in half the time, but I didn’t want to cut our time. I wanted us to expand it as long as we could.

I don’t think our hands separated the entire time that we walked. Verbally, we might have kept some distance, but that didn’t mean there weren’t some gestures that I could literally hold on to as proof that I was serious about this girl.

When we got to her apartment, I twirled her around and held her arms with mine.

“I had a great time tonight, er, today, Layla.”

She snorted and laughed.

“It went so long it’s well beyond tonight,” she said, still laughing. “And hopefully, you’ll ask to see me again.”

“Can I prove myself?”

She nodded. I closed my eyes and leaned in.

I knew the rhythm of her kissing. I knew how her lips tasted. I knew how much pressure she liked to have and to receive.

But damn if the magic and the tension of this first kiss was still the kind of thing that sent my heart fluttering, my stomach on fire, and my skin crawling with nerves. In some sense, there was perhaps no greater sign that I had accomplished my mission than this.

When I pulled back, Layla’s huge smile and narrowed eyes showed me I’d proved myself quite fine.

“I’ll be in touch, OK?” I said.

She batted her eyes upstairs. I shook my head.

“Soon, though.”

Let’s be honest. It’s hard enough to resist it right now. I’m hard as hell in my pants, and I haven’t had sex since our last time. Just… get out of here before you change your mind.

With that, I gave her one more kiss, wished her well, and then departed for the evening. I told myself that, in due time, we’d be right where we wanted to be.

I just wished that Layla hadn’t made that comment before.

Now, I was left wondering if “in due time” would be enough time for Layla.

79

The weekend came and went, but for my spot in life, Saturday and Sunday held the same schedule as Monday and Tuesday. The only difference was that the rest of the world also followed my schedule on Saturday, which made coffee shops and restaurants a real pain in the ass.

It was Monday morning, and like the previous few days, I woke up without an alarm. I only had a few emails, no missed calls, and only a couple of casual, playful messages from Layla that I quickly responded to. I moved about my morning routine of brushing my teeth, showering, eating breakfast, and watching TV at the world’s most casual pace. My shower must have lasted about fifteen minutes, which wasn’t the most ecologically or financially friendly move ever but sure was relaxing.

Eventually, around eleven in the morning, I got bored and headed down to a coffee shop with my laptop and my phone, in the idea that I would do some work.

But what?

Like I had discussed during my visit with Layla and had thought many times before, I didn’t really have anything to fight against any longer. There weren’t any chances I had to take inthe world of business; my spot on the board for Hunt Industries was just a few weeks away, assuring my financial and working future. I wouldn’t have to work that hard, especially since I knew board roles were often glorified, soft landing spots.

I suppose I could have done more work for Rising Sun and Virtual Realty, but both companies were growing and doing just fine without my hands in the middle. Rising Sun, especially, had made something of a stunning comeback; little gave me as much pride as seeing Claire rise above the dirty tactics of Edwin Hunt to make the software company viable once more. It wasn’t at its peak from before, but it was growing, it was financially viable, and it had a brighter future ahead of it.

Virtual Realty was doing just fine on its own; Andrew no longer complained to me about Edwin interfering. In fact, Andrew had actually asked me if I knew anything about Edwin, given his lack of communication. I had just said that he had chosen to transition into retirement and take on a more passive role in the industry.

All of this left me with a black coffee in my right hand, my email open on my laptop in front of me, empty chairs on both sides of me, and a whole lot of uncertainty as to how long I could just take this inaction.

It was one thing to not have any work to do. It was quite another to not have anything to do in its place; there were only so many TV shows and so much I could consume before my natural instinct to fight took over. I supposed I could better empathize with those who had retired, but what the fuck was I supposed to do? Move to Florida and into a retirement community so I could play bingo with all the old ladies there?

There was really only about one person I could trust who knew how to handle this crisis of work and meaning, and he wasn’t even a perfect match, given that he was still working and bound to be working a lot more soon. But an hour later, Morganwas seated in front of me on his lunch break, dressed from head to toe like the Manhattan business professional that it was.