* * * *
“So you’ve gone and done it.”
Paul stilled at Grady’s words. “Gone and done what?”
Grady placed their order with the harried bartender, then tipped his head back toward the table. “Found someone worth bringing into the family.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He wished he didn’t know what the clutching panic in his gut was about. It was the same fear that had kept his heart from soaring right now out the window, past the Hancock Center and beyond Sears Tower, when Bette said she’d go out with him.
Go out with him? She’d agreed to more than that.
They’d both acknowledged it in the heated exchange of looks and desire across his desk. So why postpone the moment? He’d dealt with other women this way, no promises made or expected. Why not now?
“Whoa, don’t take my head off, Monroe.” Grady pretended to back away. “I meant the family of your close friends—you know, Michael and me. Tris.”
“Stuff it, Roberts,” he growled, but his tension eased. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to bring Bette together with the other people he—He stumbled on the mental phrasing, realizing he was including Bette in the group. That he cared for, he finally supplied.
“You’ve got to admit this is a novel experience. I can’t remember you ever bringing a woman to meet us before.”
Paul scowled at the echo of his father’s words from a few weeks before. Why was everyone making such a big flaming deal of this? “So? You think everybody’s like you, with the passion of the second? You’ve introduced us to so many women you must have a revolving door.”
The blue of Grady’s eyes seemed to flicker. Paul wanted to kick himself. As he had with Michael not so long ago, he’d lashed out and hit his friend where it hurt worst. What the hell was the matter with him? He knew Grady wasn’t proud of his track record with women.
“No, that’s just it, Paul. I don’t think you’re like me. I think you’ve always recognized what I’m just starting to figure out: quality beats the hell out of quantity.”
“Look, Grady, I’m sorry for that crack. I didn’t mean it. It’s just...let's forget the whole thing, okay?”
Grady’s impatient shrug dismissed both the apology and the effort to turn the conversation. “She seems like a nice woman, Paul. A good person. Try not to be as stupid as the rest of us. Try to make it work.”
Paul stared, astonished by Grady’s intensity. They’d been friends since grade school, and he couldn’t remember if they’d ever had a conversation like this.
Handing money to the bartender, Paul felt grateful for the mundane occupation. At least something remained normal in a world developing more and more unfamiliar corners.