Page 643 of End Game

Neutral territory should actually be neutral.

Ben is already sitting in a booth near the back when I arrive.

He stands halfway when he sees me, seems to reconsider whether we're people who shake hands now, then sits back down.

Good decision.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

I take the seat across from him.

He looks tired.

Not dramatically transformed. No symbolic beard growth or visible evidence of profound self-reflection. He looks like Ben after a long week—creased shirt sleeves, hair slightly too long around his ears, coffee already going cold in front of him.

For some reason, that makes this easier.

I don't want a new person sitting across from me.

I want to know whether the person who actually hurt Cami has learned anything.

A waitress stops by. I order tea.

Ben waits until she leaves. “Thanks for coming.”

“You asked.”

“Yeah.”

He rubs both palms over his jeans.

Then stops, apparently realizing he is doing it.

“Tori and I are in counseling.”

I nod.

“She almost left.”

There is no appropriate response to that which would not either comfort him or sound pleased.

I don’t want to give him either, so I say nothing.

Ben looks down at his coffee. “She still might.”

“That is between you and Tori.”

“I know.” His jaw tightens. “She told me I needed to stop acting like what happened with Cami was one bad joke that got taken wrong.”

My attention sharpens. “Shocking.”

He exhales. “I know that's how I acted afterward. Like everybody else was being dramatic and you were trying to make me the bad guy.”

“You were the bad guy.”

His mouth twists.