Five
Teller
Friday night, Frank convinces me to meet him at Jumo's again. "Just one drink," he promises. "I need to decompress."
Susanna's working late anyway—some project deadline—so I figure why not? I text her that I'm meeting Frank, and she responds with a single word: "Fine."
Not "okay" or "have fun." Just "fine."
Women and their loaded words.
Frank's already at our usual table when I arrive, and—surprise, surprise—Clarissa and Emmaline are with him.
"Ladies!" Frank grins. "Look who finally showed up."
"Teller!" Emmaline jumps up to hug me, and I catch a whiff of her perfume—different from Clarissa's, something warmer, spicier. "I'm so glad you're here. I wanted to thank you for talking me through everything this week. You've been such a lifesaver."
"Happy to help," I say, sliding into the booth.
Clarissa's watching me with an expression I can't quite read. "Frank tells us you're married."
"Three years," I confirm.
"Lucky woman," Emmaline says, and something about the way she says it makes me uncomfortable.
"I'm the lucky one," I say automatically, but the words feel hollow.
Frank orders a round of drinks, and we fall into easy conversation. Clarissa decided to take the leap and start her consulting firm. Emmaline's finally standing up to her toxic boss. They're both so grateful for my advice, so effusive in their praise.
It feels good. Really good.
My phone buzzes.
Susanna: When will you be home?
I glance at the time. 9:15 PM.
Me: Not sure. Probably around 11.
Susanna: You said one drink.
Me: It's just turning into dinner. Don't wait up.
I silence my phone and slip it back into my pocket. When I look up, Emmaline's watching me.
"Everything okay?" she asks.
"Yeah, fine. Just Susanna checking in."
"She must miss you," Clarissa says. "You're here with us so much lately."
"We're just friends," I say quickly. "I'm helping you guys out. That's what friends do."
"Of course," Frank says smoothly. "Tell's the best friend a guy could ask for. Always there when you need him."
Something about his tone bothers me, but I can't figure out what.
We order food. The drinks keep coming. Emmaline tells a story about her ex that has us all laughing. Clarissa asks my opinion on her business plan, and I spend twenty minutes walking her through potential pitfalls and opportunities.
"You should be a consultant yourself," she says, her hand resting on my forearm. "You're so good at this."
"I'm just a project manager," I say, but I'm smiling.
"You're more than that," Emmaline adds. "You're someone who actually listens. Do you know how rare that is?"
My phone buzzes again. And again. And again.
I don't check it.