Page 34 of The New Place

“He said he just wants to know why the original plan was for Claire to see Baxter this weekend, and instead you’re haring off to⁠—”

“And now he’s got you on this as well.”

“Ah, he said that when you raised that point to remind you of your own, as he said, atrociously brilliant idea last fall and to⁠—”

“She broke my brain, okay?” Pat throws his hands up. “It was one night. I don’t even know her last name. She’s gorgeous and smart and interesting and it was the most fun I’ve ever had with someone, and you can tell Ned he’s included on that list.”

“I won’t.”

“And yes, I told her Baxter was busy. But I just wanted to see her alone again, so I made up a ridiculous lie about why he and Ned couldn’t come, but I was already coming down to the city anyway, and—look, it’s a mess, I get that, but Abbot, I’ve got to see her.”

“It was Baxter who was busy?”

“I know, I know.”

“Does he have a part-time job on the weekends?”

Pat tips his head back and groans. “I’m down bad, man.”

Abbot, who has always been in complete control of himself, of course never repeatedly visited Pat’s cafe solely because he knew it was where Ned spent so much of his time. And if he knew Ned’s schedule by happenstance, and could predict with some accuracy when he would be there, it wasn’t that he was actively seeking him out, it was just convenient circumstance.

Though he had taken care to never speak to Ned, keeping him instead at a firm and careful distance, like that could quench his unwanted attraction. Ned had been his student. And he was married. And once he was no longer a student, and certainly no longer married, Abbot kept up that detachment as a means of self-preservation.

There’s something admirable in Pat simply rushing forward with his desire to see this woman, and Abbot certainly understands that desire for soon to be now.

“I hope today goes well,” Abbot says.

“This shirt isn’t horrible, is it?”

“You look very nice.”

Pat slumps in his seat. “You’re just being polite.”

“What are you two planning to do?”

“I have no idea. I’m not good at this shit. I know, okay, I should have just asked Ned, but I’m telling you, I can barely think.”

“Given how Ned and I got together, you may want to take a simpler approach. And not ask his advice to begin with.”

“Fair. And her being a vet, I’m not sure I could use Ned’s plan of being stupidly confused about statistics until you two admitted you were it for each other. Which leaves me with boring shit to do, like—like I don’t even know. It’s such crappy weather, we can’t go for a walk, so it’s just like getting a cup of coffee or something.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s not special.”

Abbot casts him a quick look as he pulls onto the street Pat directs him down. Pat is serious about Claire. Ned guessed they spent the rest of their night together in the privacy of Pat’s apartment, and he’d joked since then that Pat is simply desperate to sleep with her a second time. But this is more. Abbot can hear it in the plaintiveness of that comment, and he remembers a long-ago afternoon spent searching the beer lists of every restaurant in Portland, certain he could land upon the absolutely perfect place to take Ned to dinner if he simply compiled all available options.

And he’d still been unsure, up until they were well into their drinks and their appetizers, and he’d forgotten to worry entirely while this man sat across from him, a grin on his face, their feet resting together beneath the table.

Abbot pulls into a loading area that Pat directs him to, and gets out of the car, motioning for him to wait as he sorts through his overnight bag in the trunk. “Give her this,” he says, holding out one of the small, flat boxes he’d brought back from Switzerland.

“Chocolate?”

“If you invite her for a coffee, it could be a nice touch. And perhaps you can impress her with your knowledge of how the use of fresh, local Swiss milk impacts the flavor profile.”

“Are you not only a genius at stats, but also a connoisseur of chocolates?”

Abbot points to the two paragraphs on the label, one in German and one in French. “No, it’s what the back of the box says.”