“We’re going to miss you.”

Liz, my most talented software analyst at the incubator, smiles from her seat in the chair across from my desk the next Monday afternoon. She was part of the most recent sale of a proprietary demographic forecasting app to the New York State government. They want to use it to anticipate population movement within the state to facilitate budget transfer approvals in each major center. Liz is just the person to whip them into shape. As it’s her last day at the incubator, I had my assistant set up a farewell luncheon with the rest of the team.

It’s hours later, and Liz is still picking away at her lunch. She stares down into the Chinese takeout box, absently tapping the side with the chopsticks propped between her fingers. “I’m no good at goodbyes,” she admits.

“You’d better get used to it. You’re two years out of college and moving up in the world. Besides, the State Department’s office is less than ten blocks away. We’ll probably all get tired of seeing you in the coffee line-up every morning.”

“True.”

“Did you have a chance to transition your files and add all the documentation to records retention?”

“Yup! Got them all done over the weekend, and updated Leanne on all the file folders before lunch today. If you have any questions, she knows where everything is.”

“Awesome.” I pull open the side drawers of my desk to double check whether or not I left my phone in one of them. It’s the third or fourth time I’ve misplaced the thing. And it takes forever to find because I usually don’t realize I don’t have it on me until long after the fucking battery dies.

“Looking for something?” she asks.

“My damn phone. I’ll need a tether for the fucking thing if I keep this up.”

“When was the last time you used it?”

I think back as I push the bottom drawer closed and feel around in my pockets for the umpteenth time today. Hell if I fucking know. “The weekend was pretty quiet, so probably last Friday or so. Don’t worry about it. It has a way of turning up…eventually. Anyway, feel free to blow this joint early. You earned it, kid.”

“Oh, wait! I’ll be right back.” She disappears so quickly with her takeout box that I’m fully expecting her to return with my phone.

That doesn’t happen. Instead of Chinese food, she comes in with two coffee mugs and a full-size bottle of Jäger.

“Last toast?” She sets down the cups and pours a generous amount of the dark liquid into each glass.

“Sure.” I pick up the closest mug. “What are we toasting to?”

“To finding your phone,” she giggles. “No, to the universe bringing forth the geek who’ll come up with your phone tether idea. Hopefully, something that’s not as un-sexy as those neck cords people use for glasses. And ditto for a fanny pack holder design.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I clink my coffee cup against the side of hers, taking a swig of the herbal flavored liquor. Glancing up as the cup lowers from my mouth, I get a pleasant surprise.

Vanessa’s in my doorway.

I haven’t seen her since the middle of last week. Haven’t heard from her either, but my missing phone is probably the reason why.

“Vanessa. Come on in.”

“We need to talk.” She takes a look at Liz for a second, then steps toward her, arm extended for a handshake. “Hi. I’m Vanessa. Sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I just need a minute with Liam. This won’t take long.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Liz. And no problem at all. I was just leaving.” Liz gets up, clutching her Jäger and the two mugs, but turns at the door. “Would you like a shot, Vanessa?”

She smiles politely. “Sounds tempting, but I’ll take a rain check, as I have to get back to my job soon. Thanks anyway.” Once Liz has left my office, Vanessa turns back to me. “You drink with your staff in the middle of the day and can still come up with billions of dollars’ worth of new software tech?”

“The creative process is nothing like practicing law.”

“I bet.” She pulls the door closed and steps up to my desk. “But I’m not here for productivity tips, Liam.”

“I was hoping you weren’t. Is your brother coming? He’s supposed to drop by.”

“For what?”

“He wants us to build a custom financial risk management tool.”

“I haven’t talked to Dylan today, so I don’t know.”

“You’re here because you missed me, aren’t you?”

She takes a seat in the chair Liz just vacated. “Is that why you haven’t answered a single text or phone call from me since Saturday?”

“Sorry about that. My phone’s M.I.A., babe. I haven’t seen your messages. But I’m liking the obsessed girlfriend act. You play it well.”

“Stop joking around.” Vanessa reaches into her purse and pulls out a stack of newspapers. I’m a bit surprised that people still buy these when they can find all the same news on their phone. But I don’t mention that to her, not with the impatient, angered look that forms on her face. She spreads them out on every clear spot on my desk and points at each headline. “Have you seen these?”

“Not in print, but yes. My staff and some of my relatives have been emailing me about why they had to find out we’re together from the news instead of directly from me.”

“We’re not together. That’s why I need to ask you, why are you so calm about it?”

“It’s no big deal. I don’t make a habit of losing my cool over crap the media writes about me. Do you know who tipped them off?”

“What? Me? How would I know? I came over here to ask you that same question.”

“Well, I figured it might have been someone you knew. That picture on all the news coverage is from the Wainwright Plaza. No one knew I’d be at that meeting with my uncle.”

“Maybe they followed you, because it definitely wasn’t me. My face hasn’t been in the media since my grandmother’s funeral more than a decade ago. There wasn’t even a blip when I started working for my mother’s firm.” Vanessa breathes out a long, heavy-hearted sigh and her shoulders slump. “I like my privacy, Liam. In my family, all press is bad press. They haven’t stopped calling my office since the news broke on Saturday. My cell phone has an unlisted number, thank God, but three or four photographers have been camped outside both my condo and the law office.”

“Have you talked to anyone?”

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

“You have no idea what you’ve done. It’s only a matter of time before they’re outside my parents’ house, hounding my dad, or ranting on and on about what his great great grandparents did or didn’t do at the end of the nineteenth century. Half of what they write about him is bullshit, but people eat it up and love to hate him for it.”

“I’ll repeat it again. I didn’t have anything to do with these. In any case, what they write about your father can’t be any worse than what they say about my old man. Although most of what they write is actually true. In fact, they don’t fucking know the half of it.” That doesn’t seem to reassure her at all. Getting out of my chair, I step over to her and pull her into my arms. “Just ignore it. Trust me, it’ll blow over.”