Page 20 of The New Place

“Listen, you can do whatever the hell you want, as long as I’m on my way to Abbot’s within thirty seconds.”

“It’s not creepy, is it?” Pat asks. “I was telling her about Bax, and she said not five minutes ago that she’d love to go somewhere quieter than here, just to get some air. That’s something, right?”

“So you take her up, show her Baxter, and I’ll get him tomorrow. Feed him a burger, whatever.” Ned backs toward the door. “Okay, have fun, bye.”

“No, no, no.” Pat hurries from behind the bar. “You have to go with me or it’s weird.”

“It’s already weird.”

“But it’s less weird if it’s not just me.”

“That’s exactly what’s making it weird.”

“Come up, okay? For a minute? So she won’t think I’m some sort of murderer?”

“We could both be murderers.”

“Not Abbot.”

“Fair.” Ned ducks a look out the window. “But c’mon, man. I wanted to be back at Abbot’s an hour ago.”

“Five minutes. Please. Please, please, please. Just this once. Just—just pretend you need her to look at Baxter, okay?”

“Can’t you just invite her up like a normal person?”

“Can’t you just ask out your boyfriend instead of hatching the most convoluted plan to pretend to date and⁠—”

“It was your idea!”

“It was Abbot’s!”

“You started it!”

“So you owe me!”

“Fine!” Ned spins and spots Claire across the room in a knot of women. He steels himself before he walks over. He really has to interrupt this conversation to drag her upstairs on a stupid false pretense, just so Pat can probably biff having her alone for a handful of minutes?

“I am so sorry to interrupt,” Ned says, pasting on a smile and trying to dial up the charm. “Hi, I’m Ned. I hope you guys are having a great time. Claire, can I borrow you for just a sec?”

“Oh, for sure,” she says, and that was easy at least, to separate her from her crowd. “What’s up? Are we being too loud? Or is Pat finally kicking us out?”

“No, no, you’re great. Everyone loves a bachelorette.”

Claire grins up at him. “You are absolutely lying.”

“Yes, definitely,” Ned agrees. This is the dumbest thing he’s had to do for Pat, and that’s saying a lot. “Listen, Pat said you’re a vet? My dog’s upstairs, and I know you’re in the middle of your evening, but could you possibly take a quick look at him?”

Claire sets her drink down. “Is he okay?”

“He’s totally fine,” Ned says, then quickly amends, “Mostly, I mean. No, he just has a—we went running today? And I think he must have gotten a little cut? So it’s just, you know, a ‘should I worry or not’ type of look at him.”

“Is it still bleeding?”

No, because the tiny nick Baxter got from a hedge is real enough, but is it a problem? Of course it isn’t. The real issue is that Baxter found half a blueberry muffin in that bush four months ago, and now every time they go past it, he has to check just in case it magically produces more unexpected baked goods.

“I think it’s okay. Well, it’s not; it should definitely be looked at, but…” Ah, fuck, he’s no better than Pat is. “Sorry,” Ned quickly starts, but he’s drowned out by a cheer from the group of women, one of whom has produced a nearly life-sized picture of what must be the groom-to-be. Another is holding what Ned’s pretty sure are cartoon penises likely about to be pinned on.

“I think that was supposed to be for the hotel room, not in public,” Claire says.