Chapter Six
Maurice
Maurice took a slow sip of his drink when David appeared at his side.
“There you are,” David said. “Dinner time. Come on.”
Maurice followed him toward the Dining Car, weaving through the crowd. David gave him a sideways look—the kind that meant he’d noticed something.
“You okay?” David asked once they were out of the noise.
Maurice hesitated. He rarely talked about this stuff. But the margarita had softened his edges, and the sight of Finn had stirred up old things he thought he’d buried.
“I, uh… met someone,” Maurice whispered.
David’s eyebrows shot up. “Already? Damn, you work fast.”
“Not like that,” Maurice said, rubbing his trimmed beard. “I mean—I think I found Mr. Right. Or someone who could’ve been. And then he disappeared.”
David slowed his steps. “Disappeared how?”
Maurice shrugged, trying to play it off. “One minute he was there. Next minute he was gone. Maybe I imagined the whole thing.”
David bumped his shoulder lightly. “You didn’t imagine it. And if he’s worth anything, he’ll show up again.”
Maurice wanted to believe that. Wanted it more than he should.
They stepped into the Dining Car, the smell of roasted vegetables and warm bread drifting through the air. Maurice tried to shake off the feeling in his chest, but it lingered—hopeful, irritated, curious.
Somewhere on this train was the blond who’d made him feel something real in under a minute. And Maurice wasn’t done looking for him.
The Dining Car was warm and bright, all stainless steel and soft chatter. Maurice followed David to a small table near the window, the kind that wobbled if you breathed on it wrong.
He slid into the seat, still thinking about for Finn—those bright eyes, that quick smile—but the part that stuck with him wasn’t the disappearing act. It was the way Finn had seemed to invite him over. Intentional. Something that felt, in the moment, like an invitation.
Maurice drummed his fingers against the table, annoyed at himself for replaying it.
His lawyer’s brain kept zeroing in on the same inconsistency: Finn had made direct eye contact and then vanished without a trace.
If it had been anyone else, Maurice would’ve called it what it was—lack of interest. Case closed.
But something about the interaction didn’t fit the pattern.
It felt like a contract had been drafted, signed, and then ripped off the table before the ink dried.
Why initiate if you’re going to bolt? Why smile like that? Why look at me like that?
He hated how easily the doubt crept in. Maybe he’d misread everything. Maybe Finn flirted with everyone like that. Maybe Maurice had imagined the spark because he wanted it too badly. He shifted in his seat, jaw tightening.
Great. Now I’m cross-examining a man I locked eyes with for thirty seconds.
But the detail that bothered him most—the one his brain kept circling like a vulture—was the way Finn’s expression had softened right before he disappeared.
Not playful. Not flirty. Something else.
Something that felt like recognition. And that was the part Maurice couldn’t let go of.
Not the disappearance. The moment right before it.
David watched him for a second too long. “Okay,” he said, picking up the menu, “spill it.”
“Spill what?”
“That face,” David said, pointing at him with the laminated menu. “You’ve got the ‘I saw a man and now I’m emotionally compromised’ expression.”
Maurice snorted. “I do not.”
“You absolutely do. I’ve seen it twice. Once in college when that French exchange student winked at you, and now.”
Maurice sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. I met someone. Or… almost met someone.”
David leaned in, eyes bright with interest. “Ooh. Tell me everything.”
Maurice hesitated, then let the words come. “He was the cute blond. Young. Gorgeous. And he used gestures inviting me to talk to him like he actually wanted to know me. Then he disappeared.”
David’s eyes widened by a hair. “Disappeared? Like poof?”
“Like poof,” Maurice echoed. “One second he’s there, the next he’s gone.”
David grinned. “Maurice Dubois, falling for a man he’s known for thirty seconds. Classic.”
Maurice groaned. “I’m not falling for him.”
“You are absolutely falling for him,” David said, waving the menu like a fan. “You’ve got that soft, tragic look. The ‘Mr. Right slipped through my fingers’ look.”
Maurice stared at his water glass. “It just… felt different. I don’t know. He made me feel—” He stopped, searching for the word. “Wanted.”
David’s expression softened for a moment. “Hey. That’s good. You deserve that.”
Maurice nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. I just wish he hadn’t disappeared.”
David let the silence hang for a second, then smirked. “Well, if he’s a professional flirt, maybe he’s just doing his rounds. Like a very gay Roomba.”
Maurice barked out a laugh. “A Roomba?”
“Yeah,” David said, deadpan. “He bumps into people, flirts, spins around and moves on. Eventually he’ll circle back to you. Just stand still and wait.”
Maurice shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re an idiot.”
“And yet,” David said, placing a hand over his heart, “you keep me around.”
The server arrived with water and bread, and Maurice leaned back in his seat, the knot in his chest loosening. David always did that—let him feel things, then cracked a joke before it got too heavy.
Maurice tore off a piece of bread, still thinking about Finn. The blond smile. The spark. The way his stomach had flipped like he was twenty again.
Maybe David was right. Maybe Finn would circle back. And if he didn’t… well, Maurice wasn’t done looking.
Dinner had just been set down with roasted chicken for Maurice, some quinoa-vegetable thing for David he insisted he liked, when David leaned in with that conspiratorial glint in his eye.
“So.” David stabbed a carrot. “While you were off brooding about Blondie, I met someone.”
Maurice’s brow rose before he could school his expression. “Already? Who?”
“Guy with thick green glasses,” David said, gesturing as if the glasses were the size of dinner plates. “Name’s Theo. Cute. Nerdy. Exactly my type. He looks like he alphabetizes his books by emotional impact.”
Maurice snorted. “That’s your type?”
“Absolutely,” David said. “I want a man who can explain the Dewey Decimal System to me in bed.”
Maurice choked on his water. “Please stop.”
David grinned. “Anyway, Theo said he’s going to the Meet-a-Daddy Party after dinner. Told me I should go. Then he said we should both go.”
Maurice blinked. “Both?”
“Yeah,” David said, shrugging. “Apparently I give off ‘responsible friend’ energy. And you give off… well.” He waved a hand at Maurice. “Whatever it is you give off.”
Maurice narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”
David smirked. “It means you should come with me. Theo said it’s going to be fun. And honestly? You could use a little fun.”
Maurice pushed his chicken around his plate, thinking. “I don’t know. I’m not exactly—”
“Don’t say you’re not the type,” David cut in. “You literally told me ten minutes ago you found Mr. Right and he vanished like a gay magician. You need to get out there.”
Maurice sighed. “I didn’t say he was Mr. Right.”
“You implied it,” David said. “Your face implied it. Your soul implied it.”
Maurice groaned. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet…” David raised his glass. “You still love me.”
Maurice clinked his glass against David’s. “Fine. We’ll go.”
David beamed. “Excellent. I’ll text Theo and tell him we’re coming.”
Maurice leaned back in his seat, letting the moment settle.
Maybe the party would be ridiculous. Maybe it would be awkward.
Maybe Finn would be there. Maybe he wouldn’t.
But for the first time since boarding the train, Maurice felt something like anticipation humming under his ribs.
He wasn’t sure if it was for the party… or for the chance to see that blond again. Either way, he was going.