Page 21 of The New Place

“We’re not murderers,” Ned offers. “If you do want to come up for a couple minutes.”

“Honestly, even if you are, I have three more days of this, so it might be a favor,” Claire says. “Yes. Your dog. Absolutely. Let’s go.”

“You’re welcome,” Ned says softly to Pat as Claire follows them outside.

“I’m panicking,” he whispers.

“I know.” He claps Pat’s shoulder. “She probably knows too, though, so clearly it isn’t a deal breaker.”

Abbot eyes them from Pat’s door. “Very interesting set of apartment keys.”

Ned leans into him, using the excuse of pressing a kiss to his temple to whisper, “We’re providing a favor, apparently.”

“How delightful.”

“Five minutes.”

“Four minutes and fifty eight seconds, considering what time you already used.”

Ned noses against Abbot’s cheekbone. “I’ll make it up to you.” And enjoy the hell out of doing so, that’s for sure.

The stairs creak as they climb them, and Baxter whines behind the door at the top. It was such a familiar sound for so long when Ned lived here, like the snick of the lock at the apartment door when Pat turns his key, and how Baxter’s nails click on the wood floor as he scrambles in his delight to say hello.

“The man himself,” Ned says. “Hey, Bax, sit.”

But Baxter squirms straight past Ned to Abbot, hurling himself against his shins, his entire body wriggling as he lets loose a series of yelping cries.

“Hello,” Abbot says, as politely as if he’s meeting another professional.

“Someone missed you,” Ned says.

“I don’t have anything for you. I’m sorry,” Abbot says, patting Baxter’s heaving side. “I didn’t know you’d be visiting tonight.”

“Bax, say hi to Claire,” Ned says, but it’s no use because Baxter is back with his very favorite person in the entire world, turning nearly upside down in his attempts to mash his body against Abbot’s legs.

Well, Ned can’t blame him. He felt the same way spotting Abbot in the conference room, but it’s a lot less excusable for Ned to lick him all over in public.

“Yeah, that’s Baxter,” Pat says. “Um, welcome.” He’s nearly as bright red as his hair.

You owe me, Ned mouths at him, then steps toward the kitchen. He is so damn nice, when he could be doing said licking instead of pulling out drinks to prolong Pat’s attempts with this woman. “Beers?” he asks. “Pat, do you have anything for Abbot?”

“There’s real wine in the cupboard,” Pat says, and Ned frowns at him. “What, you’re surprised? Not my fault you moved to Boston and spend all your time with that Steve character. Abbot’s my friend now.”

“You can’t have him,” Ned says.

“Well, I don’t, because he had to go abscond to Switzerland for a month, and I really was all by my lonesome.”

“Switzerland,” Claire says. She takes the beer Ned hands her and points the neck of the bottle at Abbot. “That’s your accent, isn’t it?”

Ned waits for Abbot to break out in hives, or maybe hurl himself out a window because a new person is talking to him, but apparently Claire is worth an entire whole word, because he says, “Yes.”

She raises her beer toward him. “Pröschtli.”

Abbot’s focus narrows like he’s just found something particularly interesting on a spreadsheet. “Have you spent time there?”

She warrants a question, too? Ned tucks his hand around Abbot’s waist, eyeing Claire with new respect.

“A semester at Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule Zürich,” she says.