CHAPTER 2
TREY
Anthony Cole chose brunch restaurants the way other men chose cars: loudly, expensively and with unnecessary opinions.
Trey found him on the patio of a Black-owned restaurant near U Street, sunglasses on, coffee in one hand, talking to Malcolm like the two of them had been waiting specifically to ruin Trey’s morning.
“There he is,” Anthony said.
Trey sat. “Good morning.”
“No.”
“No?”
U Street was already awake when Trey stepped back onto the sidewalk: buses sighing at the curb, music leaking through an opening restaurant door, somebody laughing too loudly across the street.
Anthony and Malcolm had always been able to pull him out of himself, but the conversation lingered after brunch because they had named the thing Trey preferred to call care.
He could organize a courtroom, a semester, a travel day, a crisis response.
Paula was forcing him to learn that love was not another system to optimize.
The distinction irritated him because it was true.
He walked slower than usual, letting the city move around him while he considered how easily good intentions could become decisions made on somebody else's behalf.
“You disappeared.”
“I have a life.”
Anthony leaned back. “For fifteen years, your life has included answering my calls.”
Malcolm laughed. “Leave him alone.”
“Thank you.”
Malcolm lifted his coffee. “I want details too. I’m simply more mature.”
Trey looked at both men.
Anthony was an architect, forty, divorced, immaculate even on Sunday. Malcolm had practiced civil-rights law alongside Trey long enough to know where most of his professional bodies were buried.
Neither had earned the information they wanted.
“How is work?” Trey asked.
Anthony stared at him. “This man said work.”
Malcolm smiled. “He’s happy.”
“I can see that.”
“You cannot see anything.”
Anthony pointed. “Dimples.”
Trey picked up the menu.
The waiter came. Trey ordered eggs, grits and coffee. Anthony ordered enough food for a family of four.
Only after the waiter left did Malcolm ask, “How’s Paula?”
Trey looked at him.
Malcolm’s tone was different from Anthony’s teasing.
“She’s good.”
“The Grant thing?”
Trey’s gaze sharpened.
Malcolm lifted a hand. “Public knowledge that his office brought in outside crisis counsel. I don’t know that it’s Paula.”
“It’s not my matter to discuss.”
“Fair.”
Anthony looked between them. “See, this is why I build buildings. You lawyers make breakfast feel classified.”
“It usually should be.”
Anthony leaned toward Trey. “Is she still at your house?”
Trey took a sip of coffee.
Anthony slapped the table.
Malcolm laughed.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Trey shook his head.
The food arrived.
For a while the conversation moved normally. Anthony complained about a developer trying to cut accessibility features from a mixed-use project. Malcolm described a judge who had confused confidence with competence. Trey listened, challenged, laughed.
Trey liked seeing their circles widen: people around them with lives, loyalties, and complications that did not exist merely to serve the romance.
Anthony’s divorce came up when his phone lit with his ex-wife’s name.
He looked at it, sighed, and answered.
“Yes, Camille.”
A pause.
“No, I did not forget.”
Another pause.
“I said I’d be there at four.”
His voice softened.
“Yes. Tell Ava I’m bringing the poster board.”
He hung up.
Trey raised an eyebrow.
Anthony pointed at him. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You have a judgment face.”
Trey smiled. Paula had said the same thing an hour earlier.
Malcolm caught it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That smile was about her.”
Anthony groaned. “He’s gone.”
Trey ate his grits.
Malcolm leaned back. “You know what’s different?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You’re letting somebody into your routines.”
Trey looked at him.
Malcolm had known him too long.
Anthony’s teasing quieted.
Trey set down his fork.
“She’s not easy.”
Anthony laughed. “Neither are you.”
“I don’t mean difficult. I mean… Paula has spent her entire adult life making sure she can handle herself.”
Malcolm nodded.
“I like taking care of people,” Trey continued. “Planning. Fixing things before they become problems.”
Anthony’s mouth twitched. “Control.”
“Care.”
“Control wearing a cashmere coat.”
Trey stared at him.
Anthony grinned. “Architect. We name structural problems.”
Malcolm said, “He’s not entirely wrong.”
Trey hated when the committee became useful.
“I bought clothes for her,” he said.
Anthony blinked. “That’s the problem?”
“I called Danielle for the sizes.”
Malcolm winced.
Anthony burst out laughing.
“She liked the clothes.”
“That is not the point,” Malcolm said.
“I know that now.”
Anthony wiped his eyes. “Please tell me she cursed you out.”
“Not exactly.”
“What did she say?”
“That she didn’t want to wake up six months from now and discover I had quietly arranged her entire life.”
The table went quiet.
Malcolm nodded slowly. “That sounds like Paula.”
Anthony’s humor faded. “And?”
“And she’s right.”
He recognized it immediately.
Trey did not enjoy admitting mistakes, but he had never confused discomfort with injustice.
Anthony studied him. “You serious about her.”
Trey looked down at his coffee.
He could have said yes.
Instead he said, “I waited three years.”
Malcolm smiled.
Anthony sat back.
“Damn.”
That was enough.
After brunch, Anthony headed to buy poster board for his daughter. Malcolm had a client meeting. Trey walked two blocks before his phone buzzed.
PAULA: Your friend Anthony is a menace.
Trey stopped.
TREY: How would you know?
A screenshot appeared.
Anthony had apparently found Paula on social media and sent:
ANTHONY: Hello Professor Kelly. Please return Roosevelt to society when convenient.
Trey closed his eyes.
PAULA: I like him.
TREY: Block him.
PAULA: Absolutely not.
Another message.
PAULA: Also Danielle wants to know why you called her for my dress size instead of asking me.
Trey typed:
TREY: I’m going to need new friends.
Paula replied immediately.
PAULA: Too late. I’m keeping yours too.
Trey stood on U Street smiling at his phone like an idiot.
A stranger walking past looked at him.
Trey put the phone away.
He had court Monday.
A faculty meeting Tuesday.
A client strategy session Wednesday.
A life that had been full before Paula.
But for the first time, fullness and solitude no longer felt like the same thing.