Page 136 of Full Contact

“I know.”

“But I kept the afternoon for us.”

“I wanted it when we arranged it,” I said. “I didn’t know how tired I’d be.”

I waited, but he didn’t answer.

“Would you come for dinner instead?” I asked. “Not the afternoon. Just dinner. I’d get my hours, and we’d still have spaghetti and meatballs with your sauce recipe.”

His keys clanked as they landed in a bowl.

“What time?”

“Six?”

“Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just the tart.”

“Six,” he said again. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Of course,” Mark said. “Get some rest.”

“Goodnight, Mark.”

“Goodnight.”

I hung up. On the arm of the couch, Peaches yawned.

I sat on the couch with the phone in my hand for a long time.

Chapter twenty

Mark

After Sunday, I wanted something on the calendar that both Trier and I could look forward to. The symphony was performing Holst’s The Planets on Friday. Gwen had passed on it with the comment, “Composers shouldn’t try to be astronauts.”

On Monday evening, we sat at Trier’s counter with our phones out, comparing our weeks. He had practice, a home game Tuesday, and treatment Wednesday. I had a broadcast meeting and a credential deadline.

“Friday,” I said. “I have a second seat for the symphony. It’s Holst. Would you like to come?”

He opened the team schedule and scrolled. “Game Thursday. We’re home Friday. Practice in the morning, nothing after.” He looked up. “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Should I listen to something first?”

When I left, I sent Trier a link. On Thursday, he had questions.

Trier: Why does Mars sound like it’s limping?

Mark: It’s in five. Most marches are in two or four.

Trier: Venus is very slow.

Mark: She’s the Bringer of Peace.