As I suspected the flights were full. I called the airline to see about standby and after a lady explained I should probably get to the airport as soon as possible because the flights would get busier and busier, I went upstairs to say goodbye to David.

"David," I greeted him from the door to his room.

He waved me in absently. "I had a dream, Emmy. You had a fella. Then I spoke to him!"

"You did, huh?"

"Well, I spoke to him in my dream. But then again just now. On the phone."

I perched on the end of his bed. "That's lovely, David. What do you guys talk about?"

He grinned. "You, of course."

"Me?"

"And business, of course."

"Of course."

"You should tell him, Emmy. He thinks I'm a nice person. You should tell him what I did."

"You are a nice person, David—"

"No. I was stupid. You should tell him all those things."

"I know those things, David. And I still think you're a nice person."

David huffed. "Well, he loves you. That makes me happy."

"That's lovely," I said. "Maybe one day I'll meet this dream fella. I'd sure love for him to be real."

"What are you talking about? He's the one with your phone staying with you in Charleston."

"What? Oh no. That's Trystan. He's not my fella."

"Could've fooled me."

"David—" I started, then sighed. "It's complicated."

"Nothing's complicated when you love someone. And he loves you."

"David." I took his hand and squeezed. I really should let this go, let him have his fantasy, but the idea he had was preposterous, and God forbid it took on any kind of permanence in his mind. I'd be hearing about it and fielding questions about where Trystan was for years. "David, I don't really know Trystan. I've only known him for three days, and even then—"

"Psshh," David cut in, waving his hand. "Three days. Let me tell you about three days. I met Dolly on a Greyhound bus on my way to California in 1972. If you don't think you can fall in love with someone in three days, missy, then ask me why I never met anyone again for the rest of my life."

David had been a bachelor as long as I'd ever known him. At one time, I'd thought maybe he was gay, and then perhaps simply asexual. I'd heard about Dolly once, but he never spoke about her. This was a new development.

"Tell me about her," I pressed.

"Nothing to tell. We spent three days together on a bus just talking, sleeping, laughing, learning about each other's lives. When we arrived, I kissed her, and well . . . then we went and spent the night together at a motel. It was the most beautiful night of my life. In the morning she told me she was married." He looked away and blinked.

"Oh, David. I'm so sorry."

"In all our three days together she'd never shared the biggest thing about her."

"Maybe she didn't think it was the biggest thing about her."

David looked at me sharply, and I shrugged. "I mean, maybe that's not how she identified herself. And maybe there was a reason she was on a Greyhound bus traveling to California rather than home with her husband."

"What did that singer fella say? Too young to reason and too grown up to dream. That was me."

"That's beautiful. And sad."

"I couldn't think of it in those terms back then. I was hurt. She left. I never saw her again. But I never forgot her. Sometimes there's just someone like that. Maybe most people never meet that someone, or maybe they don't recognize when they do. Maybe they pass them on the street and share a look, but they don't realize the size of the opportunity they are passing. Or they do but their hands are tied."

"Maybe they accidentally switch phones," I said and cringed. It was bad enough I'd been crushing so hard on Trystan, but ascribing anything more to it than happenstance and chemistry was a dangerously slippery slope.

We sat quietly for a while, and then I got up and began straightening the clothes in his closet. David dressed himself every morning, and he wasn't the most agile person anymore, so if he dropped something or it slipped off the hanger it usually stayed where it fell.

"I'm sorry, Emmy."

"What for?" I straightened and hung up a hooded waterproof jacket. When would he ever need one of those again? Why was it even here?

"Where do I start? For the predicament I'm in that you have to deal with. For losing all our family's fortunes. For sending my sister to an early grave. All of it."

My breath caught. "David—"

He held up a hand. "No, let me say it. I feel awake. Everything seems very clear today. I know why I'm here. I'm not right in the head. It's a terrible burden I've placed on you. After everything I did—"

"David, you didn't do it on purpose. Shit happens." I swiped tears from my eyes. I hated how broken and lost he sounded. "The whole world went through a financial crisis. It wasn't your fault."

"Greed, Emmy. That's a choice. That's on me. I deserved what happened to me. But none of you deserved for me to take you down with me."

I crouched down in front of his chair and put my hands on his knees.

He laid his hand on my hair. "You're a good girl, Emmy. You were a gift to my family."

"And you were a gift to me. You are a gift."

"Listen." His tone took on a new urgency like he knew his mind might slip away at any moment. "Take a chance. Put yourself out there. Fall in love. Start a family of your own. Do it soon. Throw yourself into love, Emmy. It's scary, I know. But don't be like me and shy away from it."

Tears rolled down my face, and I gave up wiping them away. I hadn't had such a lucid moment with David for years. There was so much I wanted to ask him, but I felt stuck in his words and overwhelmed with emotion I couldn't identify.

A strange look came over his face. "Now get up," he said. "I'm about to pass gas."

I scrambled to my feet.

"And tell that lovely Asian lady I wouldn't mind a walk down to the beach this afternoon. Maybe after the concert?"

"Okay, David."

I had no choice but to get David closer to me, no matter what it cost. I'd take on more side hustles in the interior design business with my sewing, do whatever I had to to meet the shortfall from my PR paycheck until I could get his Medicaid sorted out again. I didn't know how much time I had left with him, and I didn't want to waste it.

---

I stared at myself in the mirror of the downstairs bathroom off the lobby of David's nursing home. David's thoughts he'd shared today hit me hard. It hurt that he carried so much guilt. My eyes stung again as I thought about him feeling so afraid and alone and worried about me in his moments of lucidity.

At least my hair was clean and nicely blown with waves because the rest of me was a fright. I was pale, and my eyes were red-rimmed, wide and frightened.

---

Suit Monkey: Let me know what time you are arriving tomorrow so we can exchange phones before I leave.

---

And there it was. It was only me who was dreading trading phones back with Trystan.

If I headed home, I'd have to see him and return his phone. It was frightening to realize I didn't want to. I didn't want this to be over. Being stuck in New York gave me a reason to stay in touch with him. Going home would mean having to see him, knowing it would burst the bubble. We were living in a fantasy. At least I was.

In this fantasy, I was in a relationship with someone who was there to talk to and laugh with and have sexy times with.

In real life, Trystan was a commitment-phobic serial dater.

In real life, he'd never be there for me the way he was now.

David had stuck this idea in my head that Trystan could be something more, and as soon as he had, cold fear had gripped me deep to my core. The signs all pointed to him not being relationship material. I'd be absolutely stupid based on evidence I had, including being another numbered woman in his hotel regardless of whether he was there with me or not, to think otherwise. But the stupid kernel of hope burst forth like popcorn.

The only thing I could think of was to go home tonight and not tell Trystan I was home until tomorrow. He'd rented my place for another night anyway. If he thought I was coming home, he might offer to move out or something, even though he'd already paid me. And where would he stay?

It would be weird and awkward. It would suddenly establish real life rules and distance because I'd be deliberately choosing not to spend the night with him when everything since last night seemed to say otherwise. I’d be coming home and . . . coming at home. Ha.

I guessed that was where the frightened look in my eyes was coming from—I felt caught on the cusp of something. Stuck between going home and lying about it, which didn't sit comfortably, or going home and bursting the bubble of whatever this was between us.

A knock at the door startled me. "Miss Dubois?"

I splashed water on my face and dried my hands and face with a paper towel. Unlocking the door, I saw the lady from the security desk. "Your cab's here," she said.

"Sorry. It's always emotional saying goodbye to David." Giving her a smile, I thanked her and grabbed my wheelie bag, heading out to the cab. Climbing in, I hunted around in my purse for my charging cord. Shit. Where was it? I glanced at Trystan's phone. Ten percent. Then I had a vision of the cord I'd plugged in in the hotel room. Dammit. Looking up Armand's number at the cafe, I dialed. It rang and rang. Annoyed again that I hadn't memorized any of my friend's cell phone numbers, I let out a long annoyed sigh and leaned back against the seat.

---

"You again," Phillip said at the information desk on the airport concourse. "Still no phone, I see."

I held Trystan's phone up. "It's dead."

"Buy a new charger."

"I have. Can you please do me a favor?"

"It depends."

"I need information. You provide that, don't you?"

Phillip released a long-suffering sigh. "I do."

"I'd like you to look up the number for Indigo Café in Charleston, and then I'd like to use your phone to dial that number."

Phillip stared at me, un-reacting. "That's got nothing to do with your flight or airport information," he said.

Without breaking his stare, I reached into my purse and grabbed one of my last remaining five-dollar bills and held it out between two fingers. "It's all I have," I whispered, staring him down. "And that information has everything to do with me flying home today."

I assumed he wasn't supposed to take money for information, so my action broke him, and he quickly glanced both ways before his hand darted out and nabbed the money so fast I barely felt it leave my fingers. I was aghast. "Train on the streets, did you?"

"You have no idea," he muttered and typed quickly into his computer. He read off the address to confirm it was the right place and then dialed the number and handed me the phone.

"Armand?" I said as soon as he answered.

"Emmy?"

"Yes. Listen, I'm coming home today. I wasn't going to because something happened with David. And then, well, anyway with Trystan renting my place tonight, I just . . . can I stay with you? Or can you call Annie since I don't have her number with me and ask her?" It all came out in a big long rush.

"Si, Si. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. Yes. No. It's . . . complicated. And please don't tell Trystan I'm coming home if you see him. Just . . . can I stay with you?"

"Of course, Emmy. The couch isn't great but—"

"I'll take it. Thank you, Armand. You're a good friend."

"A good friend who you better give all the Trystan details to later. Because that man is fine!"

"Armand," I whined.

"Deal or no deal."

"Fine, deal. I'll grab a cab to your place. I'll get in around seven, I hope. I'm on standby. And we can still go dancing."

"Perfecto, Emmy. See you then."

"See you." I hung up and slumped against the information desk in relief.

"You know?" Phillip's voice cut in. "I see and hear a lot of weird shit every day with all these people passing through. But Emmy, I have to say, your situation intrigues me."

I looked up at him.

"Don't get me wrong"—he put both his palms up—"not enough to ask you about it. And please, don't share. But nonetheless."

I laughed and shook my head. "You're a character, Phillip."

"So I've been told. Bye, Emmy."

"Bye, Phillip."

The gate attendant said I was first in line on standby so she was pretty sure I'd get on the next flight. I didn't dare move from the gate while I waited. And even though I'd bought a new charger, I perversely didn't plug in the phone. This way I couldn't communicate with Trystan while I decided if I was going to tell him I was coming back or not. I needed more time to think it through.