I nod and take a sip of my beer.
“But you’re up for partner—”
“Not anymore,” I say with a laugh.
“Tyson. It’s not funny. Martin doesn’t play,” Nicole says, looking aghast. A fellow lawyer at another big firm in town, she would know all about Martin even if she weren’t dating me. “He might even fire you.”
“I can’t get fired,” I say. “I already wrote my letter of resignation.”
“What?” she says. “You quit your job?”
“Not yet,” I say. “But the email is drafted and ready to go.”
“You’re going to throw everything away? Over this? You don’t even like Hannah’s fiancé!”
Her “this” instantly grates on me, as I say, “It’s not about me, Nic. It’s about Hannah. She feels like her life is imploding.”
“O-kay. But I still can’t believe she’s asking you to do this.”
“She didn’t ask me to do anything. She doesn’t even know I’m coming.”
Nicole shakes her head but says nothing. She doesn’t have to. I know how she feels about Hannah and Lainey and close male-female friendships in general. She doesn’t believe they can work over the long haul. In her mind, if both parties are straight, someone always wants to sleep with the other. The classic When Harry Met Sally premise.
“I really want you to be okay with this, Nic,” I say, doing my best to avoid an argument.
“And why is that?” she asks, crossing her arms.
It’s clearly a test, and I answer carefully. “Because your feelings matter to me.”
“Well, let me ask you this,” she says, unfazed. “If I told you I’m not okay with it, would you go anyway?”
I stare back at her, thinking this is the problem with dating a fellow lawyer, especially one as smart as Nicole. I always have the feeling she’s about to outmaneuver me. She often does.
“It might not change my ultimate decision,” I say. “But the way you feel matters to me.”
“Okay, Tyson,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Aside from the fact that this is a disastrous career move, it just feels so…excessive.”
“How so?” I ask.
“Why do you have to fly down there? Why can’t you just talk to her on the phone?”
“Is that what you would do for a close friend?”
“An extremely vulnerable male friend? Yes. Absolutely. A thousand percent yes.”
I roll my eyes. “C’mon, Nic. Do you really think Hannah’s on the prowl right now?”
“I have no idea. What I do know is that flying down to Atlanta in the middle of a huge trial in order to comfort a female friend is just too much. It’s beyond the pale. And yes, it makes me uncomfortable. You asked me how I feel—and that’s how I feel.”
“Why does it make you uncomfortable? Do you not trust me?”
“It’s not about trust. It’s about respect.”
“Please explain to me how my going to help a friend is disrespectful to you?”
“You don’t see how flying down to Atlanta on a rescue mission—”
“That’s so condescending.”
“Condescending to whom? You or Hannah?”
“To both of us.”
“Oh. Us. I see.”
I don’t take the bait, and after several seconds of silence, Nicole says, “What about Lainey?”
“What about her?”
“Why can’t she go to Atlanta?”
“She is going. She’s on her way there now.”
“So why do you have to go, too?”
I take a sip of beer, debating how much of the truth to share. Nicole knows about Summer, generally, but not about our promise to be there for one another in the worst of times.
“Because she’s my friend,” I say. “And she needs me.”
“Well then,” she says with a passive-aggressive shrug. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”
“Yes,” I say. “I do.”
She nods, then says, “Once you get back? You might want to go talk to someone about the underlying issues here.”
“Underlying issues?” I ask against my better judgment.
“Why those girls have such a strong hold on you.”
“Nobody has a hold on me,” I say. “Nobody.”
“The framed photo in your bedroom says otherwise,” she says, referring to the only photo I have of the four of us.
“It’s just a photo,” I say, bristling.
“A photo you keep next to your bed.”
“Who cares where it is? You want me to move it to another room, I will.”
