Doug is unbothered. He shrugs, picks up his bagel, and takes a messy chomp out of it. “Then beat him to it. End of the year, Pierce. Clock’s ticking.”
I stand up. “I’ll get it,” I say.
“I know you will,” he says, attention firmly fixed on his bagel. “That’s why I’m not pulling you now. Just don’t let me down.”
I get home a little after seven. The walk from the subway is cold and I keep my keys between my fingers and my eyes on every shadow. The lobby is empty. The stairs are empty. The hallway is empty.
He’s sitting at my kitchen table, pale eyes watching calmly. I stand in the doorway with my bag on my shoulder and my keys still in my hand like talons.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he explains.
I close the door behind me and drop my bag on the floor.
“Oh, the less I know the better”
— “
