“I was an electrical engineer.”

Nick gives me a speculative look. “That’s quite a career change.”

I shrug. “Like you said, all jobs have their downsides. I make more money working at O and no one dies if I calibrate a sex toy circuit incorrectly.”

Nick starts coughing again.

“Chloe started calling you the Renaissance Man. She wasn’t kidding.” Nick’s broad grin makes his blue eyes stand out. He has a calmness, an alert confidence that makes the weirdness of this conversation disappear.

“I aim to please.”

“Looks like you succeed.”

With everyone but Carrie.

“How old are you, Ryan?”

“Twenty-seven.”

Some weird look passes over his face, nostalgia and something contemplative as he gives me a crooked grin. “Enjoy it while you can.”

“C’mon, man. I’m sure when you were my age, you had all the women you wanted.”

“When I was your age, I was a single father to twin kindergarteners and a two-year-old. Women weren’t slipping hotel cardkeys in my waistband. They were handing me carpool schedules for tiny tot soccer.”

“That actually sounds like more fun.”

A belly laugh comes out of him, booming and incredulous. “You’ve got every woman you could ever want at your fingertips.”

“Yeah.”

Nick’s eyes narrow. He reminds me of a younger version of my dad, the one I played with when I was little, the dad who was still young enough to toss baseballs and teach me how to ski. I do some quick math and realize Nick’s got to be my oldest sister’s age.

“But you don’t, do you?”

“I don’t what?”

“Have the woman you want.”

“What?”

He shrugs. Now he really reminds me of my dad.

Before he can answer, his phone buzzes. He looks at it and grins.

“I’ve got a woman of my own back at my hotel room,” he says, waggling his plastic cardkey. “I’ve been summoned.”

“Scent-o-rama crisis averted? Hey, man, don’t let me delay you.” I push the Up key on the elevator, legs too tired for the stairs.

By the time he’s gone down the hall, the elevator doors open.

And I’m greeted with squeals.

“It is you! We saw you downstairs being interviewed and thought so. OMIGOD IT’S RYAN!” Twin blondes with hair down to their asses and eyes big as saucers gape at me. One of them grabs my arm and yanks me into the elevator. “You remember us from O? You did our eighteenth birthday party last year! Gia and Gina!”

SQUEEEEE!

I just smile. God has a sense of humor like Zeke’s.

“And OMIGOD, Gia,” one of them turns to the other, “Zeke is here, too! We could get a foursome going.” She winks at me. “Um, for golf or something.” Wink.

As if summoned, I hear him shout, “HEY MATE! Hold the door!” Sweaty and holding a fresh beer, Zeke saunters on, literally dripping all over everyone as he turns in place and chugs half his brew.

“ZEEEEEEEKKKKKEEEE!” They scream as the doors close and I push the fourth floor, noting the only other button pressed was.... the fourth floor.

“What luck,” Zeke says, burping. “I knew coming to this wedding was a great idea.”

I’m too polite to point out he came because it was all free. As Anterdec subsidiary employees, we were able to get comped rooms.

“Whatcha doing tonight, Zeke?” Gia (or Gina) asks.

He puts his arms around both of them, looks at me and announces. “At least one of you.”

“Why not both?” Gina (or Gia) giggles.

“Even better.”

“What about poor Ryan? We can’t leave him out.” One of the twins speaks while the other applies lipstick.

Zeke gives me a fake sympathetic look. “Oh, girls. It’s so sad. Ryan has a girlfriend now. He’s taken. Off the market.”

They pout.

“So you’ll just have to share me.”

“We like sharing,” they say in unison.

“Nice shoes.” Zeke’s statement comes with a wolfish grin. I look down, wondering why the non sequitur about her footwear. Both women are wearing very ordinary high heels.

“Thanks!” More stereo responses.

“They’ll look great against my shoulders.”

Okay, then.

Ding!

Without another word, I get off the elevator, find the room, slip in, and press my back against the closed, locked door. Carrie’s gone for the afternoon, attending wedding events like a good maid of honor. The rehearsal is at 5 p.m. and she’ll eat with the wedding party.

How do I know this? The color-coded Excel printout Jenny’s sister gave us yesterday. Significant others have their own color (cerulean blue). My next optional appearance is at the wedding.

I’m here now, hiding and safe in my room. Our room.

Safe.

Whatever that means.

Chapter 11

RYAN

“Well, I’m off to the bachelorette party,” Carrie says as if she’s headed off to renew her driver’s license at the registry of motor vehicles.

“Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” I spent most of the day consuming calories, running on the beach, and trying to dodge the attentions of O clients. A bachelorette party is the last place I want to be.

“The rehearsal was bad enough. Jenny’s family minister is about as interesting as listening to my father explain how to edge a window.”

I laugh. She doesn’t talk much about her parents. I know they own a paint store in Michigan, but other than the fact that her brother works there, Carrie’s life before I met her is a vague mystery.

I should talk. She’s met Tessa, Carlos, and the boys. That’s it. I don’t share much about myself at work.

“I’d imagine your father’s home improvement lectures were a great foundation for your interest in design,” I reply.

“Is that why you became an electrical engineer? Because of your father?” she responds, a hard-to-read tone in her voice. Either she’s genuinely curious or a little pissed I credited her dad with her interest.

“No. I just like sex toys. A lot,” I say with a grin. “I like them more when they’re taken apart. It’s like a 3-D picture in my mind, up against the skin, triggering nerve impulses in just the right calibrated motions to produce the desired outcome.”