Theyâd been buddies for years. Stan was invincible. All those years of partying hard and running from one woman to the next with catching no more than a cold, and then when he finally decided to settle downâthe ultimate irony.
The waitress brought their meals. Stan snapped open his napkin and draped it on his lap. âSo thatâs my story and Iâm sticking with it,â he said, chuckling lightly. âBut on the real side, thatâs why Iâm here in New York.â He looked across the table at Tony. âIâm part of a coalition that makes presentations and gives workshops at schools and corporations on prevention and care. Pretty grassroots, but weâre making strides. Which is the other reason why I wanted to talk to youâ¦.â
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When Tony returned to his apartment he was mentally exhausted. He had a lot to think about. It was still hard to believe that Stan had fallen victim to the great plague of the twentieth century. But it wasnât slowing him down.
He took his time getting undressed as he processed everything heâd been told. But questions continued to nag at him. Why didnât Stephanie want more than just âgetting togetherâ? Why was she so indifferent to making a real commitment, to even admitting how she felt about him? Was she seeing someone else? Was that the reason?
Crawling into bed, he stared up at the ceiling. Stan was right. He needed to know where he and Stephanie stood and where they were going, for both their sakes. Look at what happened to Stan for assuming that everything was cool.
Tony flipped onto his side and noticed the message light flashing on his phone. He picked up the handset and punched in his pass code. There were three messages: one from a client, a telemarketer and the last one from Stephanie.
It was almost midnight. He took a chance and called. Stephanie answered on the third ring.
âI just got your message.â
Music was playing in the background.
âOh. Not a problem. I was up.â
âIs everything okay?â
She sighed. âYeah. Just wanted to talk, thatâs all.â
There was something in her voice that he couldnât quite place, almost a tone of melancholy. But he didnât want to read anything into it.
âHow about brunch tomorrow? Then maybe we could go see a movie or something,â he offered.
âIâd love to. What time?â
âYou tell me.â
âTwelve-thirty. I could come over there if you want.â
âSure. So Iâll see you tomorrow.â
âOkay.â She hesitated. âListen, I know itâs kind of late butâ¦do you feel like some company?â
He propped himself up on his elbow. âI always feel like seeing you, Steph. You want to come over?â
âYeah, I do.â
âSo come on, woman.â He chuckled.
âGive me an hour.â
âYou got it. See you in a few.â
He got out of bed, went from one room to the next and straightened up a bit, checked the fridge, then jumped in the shower.
Heâd just thrown on a sweat suit when the doorbell rang.
âHey, babe.â
She stepped up to him, cupped his chin in her palm, and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. âHi,â she whispered.
âI could get used to greetings like that.â He put his arm around her shoulder and ushered her inside. âHungry?â
âNo. Iâm good.â She walked into the living room, set her overnight bag down next to the couch, then turned to face him. âI was hanging out with the girls tonight. We really had a good time. Itâs been a while since we got together and it wasnât work related.â She took off her coat and tossed it on the ottoman, then sat down on the couch. She took off her shoes and tucked her legs beneath her. âWhat were you up to?â
Tony slung his hands into the pockets of his pants and came to join her on the couch. He draped his arm around her