Page 16 of The Summer that Ruined Everything

CHAPTER 15

O ne morning, a week after the excursion to Harvard, Cal descended the stairs from his lawn to the beach. The August sunshine glittered off the gentle waves, the sky was a vibrant azure, and the gulls that soared overhead crooned their soothing calls.

Cal took in a deep lungful of the salty air, and grinned.

He and Jack had almost the whole day ahead of them. He’d left the man’s embrace at dawn as usual to sneak back into his house, had an uneventful breakfast with his mother — his father was in New York for the week, which was a nice break — and now he had no obligations.

Maybe they’d spend hours on the beach. Maybe they’d rent bikes, take a picnic, and hit the trails at Woody Hill. Maybe they’d go to the movies. It didn’t really matter. What was important was getting to spend the time together.

He climbed the stairs to Jack’s lawn and bounded up to the house. The back door was unlocked, and he headed straight for the second floor. Chances were, Jack had rolled over and gone right back to sleep after their groggy good morning kiss.

But when Cal reached Jack’s room and swung the door open, he wasn’t greeted by the sight of his boyfriend burrowed under the sheets. Instead, suitcases were flung open on the rumpled bed, and the man was crossing the room with an armful of clothing.

“What are you doing?” Cal asked, hesitating in the doorway.

Jack whirled around, eyes wide, looking like he’d just been caught stealing. “Cal. I?—“

“You’re packing. Are you — are you leaving?” Cal’s brain tried desperately to wrap itself around what seemed to be happening. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, a pleading note in his voice. “I’m so sorry?—“

“But you aren’t leaving until after my birthday. We have two weeks left.”

They had plans, Cal thought. Plans for their last two weeks. He didn’t have to think about the end yet. It wasn’t yet.

Jack tossed the clothes on the bed and turned back to Cal. His fingers twisted in the edge of his t-shirt and he suddenly looked…small.

“I got the call an hour ago. A film I had tried for last spring, the guy they hired dropped out and they want me. But I have to go today. I’m due on set in the morning. They’re already filming.”

No. Cal felt the protest bubble up in his throat, but swallowed it back down.

“So you’re going to go,” he said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. Buchanans don’t show weakness.

“I have to. It’s not — this was a role I’m pretty sure I lost because of the bullshit that happened. But if they want me, that means that I’m forgiven. I have to take it, it’s an opportunity I can’t —“

“Right. I get it.”

Jack’s eyes begged Cal to understand. Cal looked away.

“Were you going to tell me, or were you just going to leave?”

Jack gaped at him. “Of course I was going to tell you. I was trying to pack, before you got back, and then I was going to….” He spread his hands wide. “I hadn’t figured that part out yet, but I wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

In the silence that followed, Cal took several controlled breaths. He took all the pieces inside him that felt like they were shattering apart and wrapped them into a tight bundle, shoving them as deep as they would go.

He hadn’t expected it to end now, but he’d always known it was going to end, after all. Jack had been clear about that…and so had Cal.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Jack asked.

“Okay.” Cal shrugged, schooling his features. “It’s fine. Summer was going to end soon anyway. Might as well be now. You were always going to go back to Los Angeles and your life there.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly. His eyebrow twitched.

“And you were always going to go back to Harvard, and your people,” he said, “and the life that’s all set up and ready for you to walk into it. I don’t fit in there.”

“Neither do I,” Cal muttered. Jack seized on the comment.

“No, you don’t. Or, you could, but you don’t want to, and that’s what’s important. I’ve been trying to get you to see that all summer.”

Cal flinched at the tone of Jack’s voice, and immediately felt the prickle of defensiveness in his shoulder blades.

“What does it matter what I want? It’s not like there’s an alternative,” he snapped.

“Maybe there is.” Jack folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe there is, if you were brave enough to find it.”

Cal hesitated, unsure what Jack was suggesting. If he was suggesting anything, and this wasn’t just something he was saying to get the upper hand.

“So what is this alternative? What am I supposed to do?” Cal asked. “Just leave everything and move out to Los Angeles? For you?”

Jack’s chin raised slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “That’s such a bad idea?”

“Yes.” Cal let out a short, humorless laugh. “It is.”

“Why?”

Cal shook his head. “Ginny said it…you’ll get distracted by someone else eventually. Forgive me if it’s not appealing to me to ditch my entire life when you’ll just get bored of me.”

Jack’s mouth fell open. “You think I’m going to get bored of you? Cal, that’s the fucking most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Is it?”

“What about you?” Jack asked. “You’re going to marry Katherine. Which is a great deal for you. But am I supposed to be the person who hides on the side? I’m not…that’s not for me.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Cal deflated, all the fight leaking out of him. He sighed, and said what he knew to be true.

“It sounds like this is for the best, then.”

Jack pressed his fists against his eyes. “Fuck,” he said. “This is why I don’t get attached. But you…” He sighed, then dropped his hands to his sides and shook them out.

“But I…what?” Cal asked.

“Nothing,” Jack said. “It’s like you said. We always had an expiration date.”

There were three feet between them, but it may as well have been a mile. Cal wanted to reach out, hold Jack one last time, feel his cheeks and his eyelashes and the soft planes of his neck. He wanted one last kiss, one last taste.

Instead, he took a step backwards.

“Good luck,” he said. “I’m glad that — that you got the role you wanted.”

“Cal—“

“I’ll go see your movies.” Cal smiled, realizing that he meant it. “You’ll be great.”

“You will be too,” Jack said, his shoulders slumping. “In whatever you decide to do.”

“Yeah.” Cal took another step back, and Jack didn’t follow. “Have a good flight.”

When Jack didn’t move, didn’t say anything else, his features blank and shuttered, Cal swallowed hard. Then he turned and numbly walked out the door.

He made it all the way down to the first floor, out the back door, and halfway across the lawn before he heard the door bang open behind him and running footsteps, followed by a voice.

“Cal, wait.”

Cal halted, but didn’t turn around. If he did, he was afraid he’d crumble. And he couldn’t afford to do that. Buchanans are strong.

Suddenly, Jack was in front of him, peering up at him through long, damp lashes.

“Here,” he said. He thrust something into Cal’s hand.

Cal reluctantly glanced down at it. A postcard, one of those hand-painted watercolors they sold in the souvenir shop on Main Street, the kind with “Westerly, Rhode Island” in a banner across the top. He turned it over, and saw an address and a telephone number scrawled in Jack’s wild handwriting.

“In case you change your mind,” Jack said. “That’s where I am. In L.A.”

Warily, Cal looked up, met Jack’s gaze. The guy was watching him, green eyes luminous.

“You’re always welcome,” Jack said. “If you ever need to get away. Or something. You don’t have to call first, you can just…anyway.”

He chewed on his bottom lip, and Cal lost his grip on his control. He surged forward and took Jack’s lips in a fierce, desperate kiss. Jack’s muffled grunt of surprise quickly gave way to a deep moan. Cal felt Jack’s fingers on his neck and in his hair, and tried to memorize every sensation.

He was dimly aware that anyone from his yard, or looking out his back windows, would be able to see them, but realized he didn’t care.

He almost hoped someone would see. See this, see them, see him.

Though he wished the kiss would never end, it eventually did. They separated, lips pulling apart but hands still clutching.

Jack pressed his forehead against Cal’s. “Thank you for the summer,” he said, with a rasp in his voice that set off an ache deep in Cal’s chest. “I had a marvelous time.”

He let out a long breath, then carefully pressed a kiss to each of Cal’s cheeks in turn. He took a giant step backwards and shook his head slightly, curls bouncing in zigzags around his face, then darted around Cal and into the house.

Cal turned to watch him go, and then stood staring at the closed door for a full minute before he turned and strode across the lawn and down the wooden stairs.

His feet hit the beach and he made it seven steps before his legs gave out. He stumbled onto his knees, then fell forward onto his palms. His fingers dug into the sand, grains scratching at his skin, as he pulled in a series of harsh, burning breaths, his heart pounding in his ears.

It was long minutes before he was able to stand.

Once on his feet again, he looked around, at the beach he’d always taken comfort in. Gentle waves lapped at the shore, the sun still sparkled on the water, gulls sailed overhead with soothing caws.

He couldn’t stand to look at it. Not now, not when it held so many memories of Jack, and what he couldn’t have.

Resolutely, he turned and marched up the stairs to his own backyard, across the grass and into the house, where he began to pack.

* * *

Cambridge in late summer was still quiet. It would be buzzing with life in a few weeks when the majority of university students descended on the city, but until then, Cal sought the peace he could no longer find on the beach in Westerly.

He took long runs along the Charles River and the Freedom Trail up into the North End of Boston. He sat in his library carrel, taking in the smell of musty books and the sounds of silence, staring at a crack in the cinder block wall. He went to the movies, where he could hide in the dark, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke and the flickering projector.

He carefully avoided the Whispering Arch, and slept in the other bed, and as the days passed, he pulled a numbness around him like a cloak and pushed thoughts of Jack as far back in his mind as he could. It worked, sort of.

When he could manage, he began to prepare for fall classes. He studied the course catalog, he visited the bookstore to peruse the textbooks, he made appointments to meet his professors, he set up his study spaces.

On the afternoon he was scheduled to meet with the Chair of the Economics Department, he put on a suit and a tie, polished his shoes, and looked at himself in the mirror. It was like putting on a costume — or rather, not a costume, a skin .

It was a familiar skin, one he’d easily slipped in and out of his entire life but that had never felt completely comfortable. Donning it now felt final in a way it never had before. As if the summer in shorts and sandals, with ever-present sand in his hair and the lingering scent of coconut suntan lotion was officially packed away, maybe for good this time.

Maybe it was because it was his senior year. Maybe it was because he was finally accepting what he’d known was looming all along: his future.

He knocked on Professor Jürgen’s door at half past two. The sun coming in the window at the end of the hall illuminated panes of dust motes that circled lazily through the air. The floor under his feet creaked as he shifted his weight, and he took a moment to brush off his suit and clear his throat before he heard the call to come in.

“Mr. Buchanan,” Professor Jürgen said, rising from his chair behind the heavy wooden desk that dominated the office. He stretched out a hand, and Cal took it in a firm handshake.

“Professor,” Cal said. “Thank you for seeing me. How was your summer?”

“I was doing research with a small team,” said Jürgen. “Public investment and taxation. Interesting findings, in light of the current social movements.” He waved a hand. “You can likely read about it soon enough. Have a seat.”

He gestured at the two visitor chairs, and Cal unbuttoned his suit jacket and settled into one, crossing his left leg over his right.

“I assume you’re here to discuss a course of study for your final terms?” Jürgen asked. “And perhaps post-graduation plans?”

“Yes,” Cal confirmed. “Primarily the former. After graduation I’ll be joining my father’s firm.”

“Hm, of course, that’s the most logical path,” Jürgen said. He picked up a pencil and twirled it between his fingers, peering at Cal from beneath bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “Have you considered alternatives?”

Cal blinked, momentarily off balance. It’s not like there’s an alternative, he’d said to Jack. He cleared his throat.

“Alternatives?” he asked.

“Yes. I’d be interested in having you on my graduate team, if that would suit,” Jürgen said. “You’ve got the background, and the mind, as well as a fresh perspective about some things and no hesitation in challenging old ideas. You’d be an excellent addition.”

“Oh.” Cal straightened up, surprised at the compliment. Is that how he acted? Challenging old ideas? “I appreciate the offer. I’m not sure my father would, I know he’s anxious to have me working with him.”

“Consider it, at least,” Jürgen said. “The School of Business Administration is another alternative. That could open up other options for you, as well.”

“I’ll certainly think about both options,” Cal said. “Thank you for having confidence in me.”

“It’s well deserved. Now, let’s talk about your courses for the year.”

When Cal walked out into the sunshine thirty minutes later, he was armed with a piece of paper with his course plan neatly sketched out. He stopped under one of the elms and eyed the paper. The schedule he planned to register for in a few weeks was his future, in stark lines of ink:

Economics 125 - Inflation, Growth and Stability - Professor Forster

Economics 144 - Government Policy Toward Business - Professor Van Louen

Economics 166 - International Trade and Economic Policy - Professor Brink

Statistics 139 - Regression and Analysis of Variance - Professor Morris

It was the culmination of his studies. Economics, Business, Math. The things the heir to the Buchanan fortune should study, so he could continue the family legacy. The education — as well as the prestigious degree — would serve him well as he moved up into his father’s world.

He should be proud of himself. He was on the Dean's List, top of his class. The Chair of the Economics Department, a celebrated national scholar and expert, wanted him to pursue graduate studies, thought he was a shoe-in for the School of Business Administration. He had spent his time at Harvard forging important relationships with men who came from powerful families and who would be powerful of their own right before long. He was practically engaged to a woman who would be an asset to his career and his future. He should absolutely be proud.

Instead, he felt empty.

He walked back to Eliot house and up to his room without paying conscious attention to where he was going. Once his suit was hanging in his closet, he sat down at his desk and examined the paper with his impending schedule again.

It’s not like there’s an alternative.

Professor Jürgen had offered alternatives to the path laid out for him. Had thought Cal had a choice about his future. Was there a possibility he was right?

He picked up the course catalog and flipped past Economics to English. He began to read. He flipped back to the beginning of the catalog, and then to the very end. After a while, he turned over his paper schedule and wrote a new one on the back.

Humanities 7 - Uses of the Comic Spirit - Professor Hocksley

English P - Dramatic Interpretation and Background of Theater - Professor Packer

English Ka - English Composition (Prose fiction) - Professor Lewis

Visual Studies 145 - Light and Communication (Cinema) - Mr. Harris

He let out a breath. His heart was beating fast, and he wiped a palm across his clammy forehead.

Of course this was just fantasy. He couldn’t register for these classes…could he?

He’d already completed all the requirements for a major in Economics and a minor in Statistics the previous year. Technically, he didn’t need any of the courses Professor Jürgen had told him to take.

If he planned to apply to the graduate school or the business program, it would matter. But if he was just going to go to work for his father, it really didn’t. At all. So…maybe he could.

Jack had said maybe there was an alternative, if he was brave enough to find it.

He shoved the paper inside the course catalog, shoved the course catalog into the back of his desk drawer, and shoved Jack out of his mind. It worked, sort of.

* * *

Katherine arrived in town the day before his birthday. He had told her not to come early, that he wasn’t in the mood to celebrate, but she had insisted.

“Don’t be daft, Calloway,” she’d said over the telephone when she’d called with the news. “I’m bored and anxious to get back…and you must be bored as well, with Jack gone back to?—“

“I’m busy,” Cal said. “Not bored.”

“Busy with what?” Katherine asked. “Natalie told me that Harrison told her you never want to go out with them or have any fun. Please tell me you aren’t wallowing . That’s so dramatic.”

“Come if you want to come,” he’d said, before hanging up on her.

She insisted on taking him out for a “pre-birthday dinner,” even though he told her again he wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. In the end, it was easier just to go along than to put up a fight.

They went to the Ritz, which Cal found stuffy and uncomfortable. Since this clearly wasn’t about him, however, he kept his mouth shut.

He followed Katherine — who was following the ma?tre d — through the dining room to their table, and pulled out her chair. She smiled up at him, elegant as always in a narrow yellow dress with a white stole and white shoes, and he smiled back.

Maybe this had been a good idea after all, he thought, taking his seat. It was practice for the future.

They chatted lightly about their friends and their parents. Katherine asked him what he’d been up to, and how he’d been spending the end of the summer. He gave vague answers and turned the questions back on her, preferring to keep her talking about herself.

He remembered that being with her was easy, and comfortable, and began to relax.

When she asked about his course schedule, however, he tensed up again. He recited the classes Professor Jürgen had laid out for him, each one feeling like acid on his tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Katherine asked. She reached across the table and touched his sleeve. “Are you sick? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

He laughed softly. “I’m not sick,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked, squinting at him.

“I’m just…I might decide to go another route,” he said.

Once it was out there, his stomach untwisted and he knew it was true. He might make that choice. He could make that choice, if he wanted to.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“There are some other classes I’m considering,” he said. He named them, and they rolled off his tongue easily. He was smiling by the time he was done.

She burst out laughing, and he stared at her until she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her napkin. “Calloway,” she said, catching her breath. “You’re a comedian.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “I think I might — I think I’m going to take those classes instead.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

“Why is it ridiculous? I’ve completed all the content requirements for my degree. I just need credits. I thought I might take some things that interested me.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem so far-fetched.”

“What will people think?” she asked.

She looked almost scandalized. Because he was planning on taking some English classes. He suddenly felt a laugh bubbling up himself, and forced it back down.

“Who cares?” Cal said. “I’m going to work for my father. I already have the job. No one is going to care what I took my senior terms at Harvard, they’ll just care that I have the piece of paper to frame and hang on the wall.”

“Your father might care,” Katherine said, taking a sip of her water. “What if he refuses to support you because of it?”

“He won’t know, but that won’t matter either,” Cal said, realizing it was true. “I’m going down to Providence tomorrow to take control of my trust. I’ll be able to support myself.”

She shook her head. “Well, I think it’s a ridiculous plan. But if you need to get it out of your system, I suppose…we can say that you’re looking to make contacts outside of your circles of Economics and Statistics. Broaden your reach. People will be impressed with your cleverness.”

Cal bristled. It was a good plan, but it wasn’t true. He didn’t care about making contacts. He cared about learning some things that actually interested him while he was at this school. Wisely, he once again kept his mouth shut, and she seemed satisfied.

They talked a bit about the March on Washington, but disagreed about whether it would make a difference.

“What needs to happen,” she said, “is that people need to use the political system to make change.”

“That is what’s happening, isn’t it?” Cal asked. “Protests and demonstrations to show what the people want?”

“It just seems so uncivilized,” she said, wiggling her fingers distastefully.

“Uncivilized? Protesting?” Cal stared at her. “Are you…you’re joking around, right?”

“Look, I’m not saying that they shouldn’t have equal rights, I’m not a philistine,” Katherine said, rolling her eyes. “I’m just saying, instead of doing something so disruptive, write about it. Run for office. Use the court system.”

“I think that has all gone on and continues to go on,” Cal said. “But it’s difficult to use the system to make change when the system is built by people who benefit from the status quo. It’s too easy for them to rig the deck.”

He realized he’d raised his voice, and cleared his throat softly. He reached up and tugged at his collar, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Katherine blinked at him, then glanced around and squared her shoulders.

“Well. You don’t have to get upset with me about it,” she sniffed. “It doesn’t really involve us, anyhow. I just hope it gets resolved before June.”

“June?” Cal frowned. “Why June?”

“Well, I have a surprise for you,” Katherine said, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling. “Daddy was able to get us the Plaza for the wedding reception. He had to call in some favors — of course it was booked — but it’s ours.”

“For the…wedding,” Cal muttered. He tugged at his collar again, this time because it suddenly felt too tight.

“Yes. Are you pleased?” She looked so hopeful, he simply nodded. “Oh, good.”

“So you told your father we’re engaged?” Cal asked.

“Not exactly. I just hinted that it was likely to happen soon. He’s thrilled, by the way.”

“I’d imagine,” Cal said. “My parents will be too.”

She started chattering about the wedding then: colors, flowers, cake designers. Apparently he was meant to be in white tie. She also began to rattle off a guest list, and he winced at all the powerful names of people he didn’t know personally.

It felt so real. He’d known it was going to happen, had decided he would go through with it, but sitting here now, with Katherine, talking about having a fucking string quartet for the ceremony? It was too much.

“Wait a second. Stop,” he said, after a while.

“What?” she asked.

“Before, you said that you hoped the protests were resolved before June. What does that have to do with our wedding?” he asked.

“Oh.” She waved her hand. “Just because these things are such an inconvenience. Imagine if we’d had a wedding planned in Washington this week. I’d be beside myself.”

He stared at her. “I think,” he said carefully, “that people fighting for rights and equality, and to not be treated as a subclass of citizens, is a little more important than a party.”

“A wedding is not a party,” she said. “It’s a sacred ceremony.”

“A wedding is a party,” he countered. “We can have the sacred ceremony at the courthouse any day at all. The wedding is just a party .”

“Even so,” she said. “It’s an important one.”

“Not more important than what people are fighting for.” Cal sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “You said that this ‘doesn’t really involve us.’ But what if it did?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“What if it involved you? What if it involved women’s rights? Women are starting to fight for more equality, or so I’ve heard.”

“And they’re doing it the right way,” Katherine said, frowning. “They are organizing politically, and lobbying.”

“Fine. What if …” He steeled himself before saying the thing that was running through his head. “What if it involved me?”

“Why would it involve you?” she asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

“What if people like me decided to fight for rights. To be able to love whoever we wanted to love.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked around to be sure no one had heard. “Lower your voice,” she said, urgently.

“Relax. No one knows what I’m talking about,” Cal said. “So? What if? Would it be an inconvenience then?”

“You mean people would be…open about it?” she asked incredulously.

“Is it such a strange idea?” he asked, knowing that, in essence, it was a strange idea. He tried to imagine marching in the street, letting everyone know , demanding the right to just be who he was, without judgment or danger of being arrested. To maybe marry the person he was in love with, instead of…

He looked across the table at Katherine. She was looking at him oddly. After a moment, she spoke.

“Even if that happened,” she said quietly, “it’s not like you could join them.”

“Why not?” Cal asked.

“Because, in the eyes of the public, you’ll be the heir to the Buchanan legacy, the leader of an important company, who is very much married to your dutiful and loving society wife.” Her eyes grew sharp and alert. “It wouldn’t make any sense for you to petition for rights that apparently don’t affect you. And you know your family wouldn’t approve.”

She was right. She was absolutely right, on every point. If he married Katherine, if he went to work for his father, if he took that path…that was it. There was no way he could ever do what people were doing with the March on Washington. No way he could ever be anything — in the open, anyhow — other than what he was told.

Bands of tightness wrapped themselves around his chest, squeezing and squeezing until he couldn’t breathe. He could see it. A lifetime of working beside his father, never being good enough, being bored to tears with work that didn’t excite him. Decades of living with Katherine, accompanying her to events he didn’t care about, associating with people he found shallow and false. An eternity in a cage he couldn’t break out of, because he’d put himself in it.

And why? Because he wasn’t brave enough to consider an alternative? Because he thought he didn’t have a choice?

Something snapped inside his chest, and he was able to breathe again.

“Unless,” he said, “I wasn’t.”

“What?” She frowned.

“Unless I wasn’t the heir to the legacy. Unless I wasn’t the leader of the company. Unless I wasn’t married to you.” He gripped the edge of the table for stability, as he made his decision and said it out loud. “I’m sorry, Katherine. I can’t do this.”

“Calloway,” she said, caution in her tone. “What are you saying?”

“I can’t marry you. It would be a lie. It’s not what I want.” He blew out a breath, feeling lightheaded.

There was a beat, and then she laughed nervously. “Stop it. This isn’t funny.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said. “It isn’t funny at all.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “It was all worked out. It benefits us both. I promise you, I’ll help you have what you want.”

“You can’t possibly help me have what I want,” Cal said. “If I marry you, I’ll be walking right into an entire life I don’t want.”

“I won’t just look the other way, I’ll…I’ll actively cover for you,” she said. “You can have what you want.”

“Katherine. I don’t just want…it’s not just about that. It’s about everything. The job, my family, the position in society…I want none of it. I want other things.”

“You want him ,” she said. “You think you can just go and?—“

“No,” Cal leaned forward. “Listen to me. It’s not about him. He helped open my eyes to possibilities I’d never let myself consider. But this is about me . Who I am. I don’t want to work for my father. I don’t even want to be in business. I don’t want to summer in a stuffy community with people I can’t stand. I don’t want to worry about society and rankings and what people think.”

“What do you want, then?” Katherine asked. “Maybe I can help you get it.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You can’t. And I don’t exactly know, because I’ve always been too afraid to entertain the notion that I might have a choice. But I do have a choice — lots of them — and my first choice is that I’m not going to marry you.”

He got to his feet, tossing his napkin on top of his half-eaten dinner. He pulled some bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table.

“I have to go. That should cover the meal, and there’s extra there for you to hire a car to take you back.”

“Calloway,” she said, reaching out to clutch at his wrist. “ Cal . Listen to me. You don’t have to decide this right now. You’re in a vulnerable place. Take some time, think it over?—“

“I have,” Cal said. “I really am sorry, for getting your hopes up. But I can’t do it.”

Her fingernails dug into his skin. “You’re ruining everything ,” she hissed.

He pulled away. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m fixing it. Goodnight, Katherine.”

The air outside was cool, and he stopped and took several lungfuls and grinned. Then he turned and walked up the street towards the subway, his steps lighter than they’d ever been.