ANDREW sat up in bed suddenly. It was late at night. He was back in San Francisco to deliver another guest lecture the next morning. He had awoken from yet another nightmare. A cocoon of covers lay bundled from his waist down. He was drenched in sweat and panting. He hadn’t had a dream with such intensity for over a year.

He got up and walked to the kitchen in his suite. Taking a bottle of water from the fridge, he walked back to his room and sat on the side of the bed. It was so vivid, he almost felt the nightmare had not ended. He drank the entire bottle and stretched out in the bed again, but his mind was fired up from the nightmare. He sat up again after a few minutes. There was no way he could go back to sleep after that. Images of Emma’s face kept surfacing.

He got up and dressed. He decided to take a drive and clear his head. He had not driven around San Francisco on his own in ages. Tonight, he needed to feel the air through his hair and the roar of an engine beneath him. He needed something to do. He checked with the hotel. His father’s Lamborghini was still parked in the garage. He told them to have the valet bring it out.

He went down the elevator and made his way through the lavish lobby to the exit. Soft operatic music played in the background. It was beautifully dull. And tragic. All his senses seemed hyper-aware tonight. He walked out to the front of the hotel, got in the driver seat, started the car, and revved it before driving away.

When he was out on the open road, he peeled off, fishtailing as the car sped up the street. The streetlights flashed by him as he drove up the ramp to the highway. He drove quickly, but not fast enough to get into any trouble. He just needed to breathe again, to feel his pulse race, now that he was closer to letting go of Abby.

He exited Highway 280 and turned north on the pacific highway to enjoy the ocean view. Or try to, anyway. There wasn’t much enjoyment to be had. Everything around him seemed muted and dull, as though the life had been drained from him and his surroundings. That was his new and less-than-shiny perspective. Thousands of street lights sparkled in his periphery as he drove, until he saw something out of the corner of his eye. When he did, he braked so hard, the tires screeched before coming to a jarring stop.

He looked to the left, toward the ocean. There were two joggers running up the boardwalk, moving in synchronicity, and with such grace; such togetherness. He wasn’t sure why they caught his attention, or why he had stopped to watch them. Perhaps because it was the middle of the night. Surely they were out training for something. He took a moment to catch his breath. God, he missed Abby terribly.

Remembering he had a meeting with Professor Sansbury in the morning, he started the car, turned it around, intent on going back to the hotel. Somehow, he ended up in the parking lot at Abby’s place. If he had been looking to feel his heart race, it sure happened there. He could barely breathe, his hands shook, and his throat tightened.

He struggled to come up with what he could ever say to make up for how he had treated her. He didn’t dare go up to her door; not at this hour, and certainly not after cutting ties the way he had done. He sat in the car and looked toward her unit. All the lights were off. At least he didn’t cause her any loss of sleep. Sighing, he started the car and left.

Back in his room, he stood at the door and looked around. He tried to busy his mind, and not have it invaded by Abby. There was more space than he and his dad, or any of their guests would ever need. He looked at the baby grand piano in the corner of the living room. Neither he nor his dad played. He wondered why his father had the hotel keep it as part of the décor. He had no idea why he only just noticed it.

He walked to the fully stocked bar in the far corner of the room. He placed a glass on the counter and looked through the bar fridge. Whiskey could help. Except he hated drinking alone. He put the bottle back in the fridge without pouring a drop, and went back to his bedroom. He undressed to his boxers again and got into bed.

* * *

The sun blazed through the windows as Andrew woke up the next morning. He looked over at the clock. He had barely slept. He picked himself up and got in the shower. His meeting with Sansbury was scheduled for ten that morning, and his guest lecture was right after that. After getting dressed, he went down to the main floor of the hotel. He walked through the common areas, past the couples and businessmen sitting at the smaller hotel restaurant near the lobby.

He was early. Looking around, he found a seat near the quieter back window and waited. After a server took his coffee order, a young couple walked in from the patio outside, and approached him.

“Good morning, sir. Sorry to bother you, but would you mind taking a photo of my wife and me? We just got married.” the man said.

“Oh honey, that’s the first time you’ve called me your wife,” the woman purred before Andrew could answer. “It sounds so sweet.”

She reached up and kissed the man, and Andrew looked around, hoping a hostess or server—anyone—would come by and do the honors. No one came.

When they pulled from their kiss, the man seemed to remember why he was standing in front of Andrew’s table, and continued. “Sorry about that. So, can you take our photo out on the patio?”

“Certainly,” Andrew answered, and stood up to follow them outside.

The man passed Andrew his camera, and the couple stopped in between two planters, the sparkling San Francisco Bay behind them. They held each other close as they posed for Andrew to take the shot. Andrew fumbled with the camera briefly, then found the right setting and took a few shots. The couple thanked him repeatedly. He nodded and handed the camera back to the man before going inside.

He smiled as he sat down at his table. It was always this way. Disgustingly cute and romantic couples always managed to make their way to him for photos when he was down in this hotel lobby. If nothing else, the Gods had an odd, mocking sense of humor.

He was looking out at the water when Sansbury reached the table and put his hand on Andrew’s shoulder.

“Andrew, it’s great to see you, son,” he greeted him.

“Good morning, Dr. Sansbury. Nice to see you too.” Andrew stood up and shook his hand before they both sat down. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“I’ll have a coffee. I ate earlier this morning.”

“Sounds great.” Andrew waved at the server. She came over and got their orders. “So how has the feedback been?”

“On your lectures? Great so far.”

“Good to hear.”

“Thanks again for stepping in on such short notice.”

“Happy to help.”

“But that’s not why I’m here.”

“No?”

“Not a chance. This immune targeting research project is expanding. We need more talent on our team. I was hoping I could convince you to join me.”

Andrew hesitated. “I’m really honored for the invitation, Dr. Sansbury. The work sounds quite exciting. I just can’t make that kind of commitment. Not right now.” He looked away. He knew Sansbury read him like a book, so he didn’t bother lying. “I still don’t do too well when I’m away from the cottage.”

“You seem to be doing just fine.”

The server brought their coffees on a silver tray with milk, cream, sweeteners and sugar.

Andrew shrugged after the server left. “I’ve been here for two days and I’m heading back tonight. I can’t even last a week, otherwise I’d stay in town for the final lecture next Tuesday.”

“Are you sure I can’t refer you to someone?”

“You mean a therapist?” he said softly, even though no one else was in their section of the restaurant.

“Yes. I can get you someone who’s very discreet. She works with several of the faculty members. As a matter of fact, I believe she has quite a few doctors among her clientele.”

“I don’t think—”

“Don’t dismiss it yet,” he said, tilting his body slightly to reach into his pants pocket. “Here’s her card. Just think about it.”

“Thanks. I will.”

“Good, although I seriously doubt you’ll go.”

“You know me well, I guess.”

“Yes. And I hate seeing you stuck. Look, Andrew. I’ll tell you a story. A few years ago, one of my adjunct professors was driving back from a jet skiing trip down in Tijuana. He was with his three sons. It was late at night when they got home. And of all things, they walked right into a home invasion taking place at their house. William, my professor, was immediately shot in the abdomen. Thankfully, his three boys were behind him, and ran away to get help.

“The ambulance and police arrived within minutes. And William just barely survived, although now he needs dialysis. For almost three years, William refused to see a therapist. He returned to work within months of the incident. He and his three boys were still living in a hotel after it happened. When his performance at work began to deteriorate, we sent him to this therapist. We had to force him. But within six months he was back in his house.

“And today, even after all that therapy, he still walks into his house through the side door. He has never used his front door after that night. But he’s back home. And his boys are happier.

“Maybe that story isn’t as relevant as it seemed when I thought I’d share it with you. But what I will tell you is things may never be the same, but they can get better. After all this time since Emma left us, it can only help… Talking to someone is always better than keeping it to yourself. And we really need you on this project. You've got great talent. I need people with instinct. Let me just say this to you, Andrew. With nothing but love, because I see you as the son I never had. It’s time to claim your life and your soul…before you lose yourself. Please just think about it.”

“Thank you. I will.” Andrew looked at his watch. This conversation was more than he had bargained for. “I should be going. I’ve got a lecture to deliver. Thank you for the offer, and for coming by.”

Dr. Sansbury stood and shook his hand. “You take care of yourself, Andrew. And thanks for your help on the college lecture circuit. You’re a natural.”