Page 89 of The New Place

“I know, I only⁠—”

“And he’s my dog.”

Abbot straightens, hurt.

He must not hide it quickly enough, because Ned mutters, “Sorry.”

“Whatever you’d like to do.” Baxter is his dog. Of course he is.

“I am sorry,” Ned says. “I just—everything. Adams, Newbury, you moving, all of it. It’s gotten stressful as hell.”

“Ned, it’ll be okay.”

“You keep just saying that, but we didn’t exactly set out to be presumed to be engaged.”

“It’s just Chris.”

“And now Beverly, and probably Sandy.” Ned rubs his face. “People are different when it comes to anything to do with marriage. Everyone makes a huge deal about it. Trust me.”

Yes. Ned would know. Far better than Abbot would. Which stings.

“Abbot, I didn’t mean⁠—”

“We shouldn’t keep Sandy waiting. We can sort this out after the appointment.”

“Okay,” Ned says softly, and when Abbot turns, Ned follows.

Sandy’s in a brightly lit kitchen of white counters and cabinets, and Abbot finds quite a bit of interest in the pendant lights.

It’s nothing. Just that Ned has been married before, and Abbot had a years-long relationship with a man who refused to even entertain the thought. So what if Ned has situational context Abbot is lacking? It likely isn’t even applicable here, that being Ned’s first marriage, and to a woman, too. Too many variables are different, and Abbot opens a drawer, finds neatly placed silverware, and shuts it again.

“Thank you so much for your patience,” Ned tells Sandy, and at least he can be cheerful. “Great place. Isn’t it?”

“Oh, no problem at all,” Sandy says. “And it really is. I was just saying to Henry that this house has everything on your wish list.”

“How great.” Ned sounds enthusiastic. Or maybe just convincingly so.

Before Abbot can wonder how much of an act it might be, he feels his phone buzz yet again. “I’m so sorry, let me just…”

It’s Liesl video calling, and unless he’s teaching or in a meeting, as a rule he tries to always answer her. “Hello,” he says and tips the phone so she can see beside him. “Ned’s here.”

“Give me to Ned,” she demands.

“Hi to you too,” he says without handing the phone over. She’s in her bedroom, lamps lighting up the space against the darkness outside her windows, such a contrast to midday here.

“Ned!” she calls out, as if Ned can’t hear her. “I’m flying over tomorrow!”

“I know.” Ned leans into Abbot’s shoulder to wave. “Can’t wait to see you.”

“So?” Liesl asks.

“So what?” Ned asks.

“So,” she says, drawing out the word. “Hey, where are you?”

“At, ah. A house,” Abbot says.

“Whose house?”