Low Pressure

“Giving Steven no time to become too busy to see us or to duck out the back door.”

“Something like that.”

He bobbed his chin. “Good plan. Want to meet for breakfast first?”

“I’ll just have coffee here in my room.”

“You don’t eat breakfast?”

“Sometimes.”

“But not tomorrow.”

“Dent.”

“Okay. Fine. No breakfast for you. So… we’ll meet around, what? Eleven-fifteen?”

“Perfect.”

“Up here or in the lobby?”

“Are you always this detail oriented?”

“Absolutely. Pilots usually don’t get do-overs. The airplane can be on autopilot, but you don’t want the pilot to be, do you?”

She knew he was baiting her, but she went along. “Lobby.”

“Roger that.”

“Is that all? If so, it’s late.” She gestured toward the open door behind him, but he didn’t take the hint.

“Did you talk to Olivia?”

“No change.”

“That’s good.”

“I suppose. Did you speak to Gall about your airplane?”

“He tacked at least another two weeks on to how long the repairs will take.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Then for the next several moments, neither of them spoke or moved. She swallowed, hearing the gulp herself and knowing that he probably had, too. “I’m going to say good night now, Dent.” Again she gestured toward the gaping doorway.

“I haven’t asked my question yet.”

“You’ve asked several.”

“But not the main one.”

“I’m exhausted. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Was your heart broken?”

Of course she knew what he was referring to, and she figured he wasn’t going to give up and go away until she answered him. “Over losing the baby, yes. Very much so. Over losing him, no. The breakup was an inevitability. Long before the documents were filed, he and I were already separated emotionally.