Blaine

"You're late, Blaine."

"Tell someone who cares."

"Your mom cares, and she knows you're late. She's waiting in your office."

"Damn."

I pause for a moment, avoiding the steady gaze of Linda, my PA, a gift from God and generally an all-round wonderful person. I don't like many people, but I do like Linda.

"Blaine."

"Ugh." I turn, forcing myself to meet her pointed look. "Be nice, I know."

"Yes, please. Now go see her and I'll get you a coffee."

"Just had one."

I know Linda will ignore that, she always does. Every day, without fail, a mug of coffee is set on my desk within five minutes of me arriving. Linda knows I always get coffee on my way in, and she knows that two mugs of the stuff in less than an hour will have me using the bathroom all morning, but she says that's merely a good opportunity to get my step count in for the day. Linda is like a mom is supposed to be.

"Hey, mom."

"Nadine when we're in work, please, and you're late."

My mom stands, straightening her sharp navy suit and smoothing one hand over her hair, which is, as ever, scraped back from her face in a tight blond bun. She must surely be gray or even white by now, but there's not a chance in hell of Nadine Anderson ever letting age catch up to her.

"I was getting coffee."

My mother and I play games, and we've been doing so since I was a child. Not board games, you understand, but emotional, manipulative mind games, and our favorite is to appear like we're entirely unaffected by the other person, when the reality is that she's exasperated and disappointed by me, and I'm constantly angered by her.

"When I am not here, Blaine, you are in charge."

"Mm-hmm. I know. That's why the sign on my door says Blaine Anderson, Senior Partner."

"Exactly."

"It just doesn't say 'Only when it suits my mom' after it, that's all."

"That's not true."

"It does say that? I hadn't noticed."

"Behave, Blaine." She watches me closely as I move around the large office, purposely not sitting down just to annoy her. "Please don't be late again. I can't be here as much as I'd like, and so I'm relying on you to keep Anderson and Cole at the top, where we belong."

"Yes mom, whatever you say, mom."

"I'm leaving," she announces, to my relief. "I can't get any sense out of you today. And it's Nadine, not mom."

"Where are you going? To visit Cooper?"

She pauses in the doorway and turns back slowly, fixing me with an icy glare. "Don't you..."

"Coffee," Linda trills brightly. She must've been lurking, because her timing is impeccable, and she once told me that she stands outside and eavesdrops whenever any of my family visit. We have no secrets, Linda and I. "Lovely as ever to see you, Nadine. Doesn't Blaine look handsome today? I do like him in that maroon shirt."

"You like me in whatever I wear," I point out, and as I sit, she hands me my coffee and ruffles my hair.

"I do."

"Blaine always looks handsome," is all my mother manages, and I suppose it's some kind of compliment. "But he needs to work on his manners."

She leaves, and Linda visibly relaxes, sitting down in the chair opposite me. "She's so sweet."

"Isn't she?" I give a sardonic smile and start up my computer. "I'm surprised she thinks me handsome, since I look so much like dad."

"Well they might have divorced, but there's no denying he was a very good looking man. You know..."

"A nice boy like me needs to find a man, I know."

"Just saying." Linda holds up her hands with a smile.

"But I'm not nice."

"You are," she counters. "You're just a little...damaged, that's all. But the right guy would fix all that."

"Doubtful. Anyway, I just got asked out, actually."

"Really? Did you accept?"

"No."

"Blaine!"

"I'm not interested."

"You are," Linda decides as she heads for the door. "You just won't let yourself, that's all."

That night, despite the chill and the threat of snow looming, I drive far out of the city. I like to do it sometimes, just to escape the relentless bustle and noise. When my brother and I were younger, we would often talk about growing up and moving somewhere really remote. He wanted a ranch in Texas, so that he could ride horses all day long. I just wanted somewhere with a porch, so I could look out across fields and marvel at the wonders of nature. We neither of us got our wish.

I can't complain; few men of thirty four could own an apartment on Riverside Drive and be senior partner in a corporate law firm. Then again, few men of thirty four find themselves still beholden to their mother and, indeed, even fewer men of thirty four could be as lonely as I am. Once I've had my moment of wallowing, staring out my windshield at the darkened Hudson, I force myself back to the city, make my usual nightly call to my brother, and then head to bed.

The next day, laden with guilt over my mom's reprimand, I make sure I'm up early and in Coffee Corner just after seven. I'll still be late for work; later than I should be, anyhow, but it's a slight improvement. Assuming I'll avoid the tourists, I am dismayed to find the place isn't just busy, but positively heaving with bodies. I get my coffee to go, with no intention of staying jammed in among so many people, only as I'm about to leave, my usual spot opens up, and I'm in there quick as a flash. I deliberately put my briefcase on the vacant chair opposite, and make a big show of looking out of the window, as if expecting someone any minute. I'm not, of course, but I don't want Joe public to think they can come sit with me.

For once, my ruse works, and no one comes near. The shop begins to empty out; people hurrying off to jobs or school; groups of friends and colleagues laughing together as the door opens and shuts, opens and shuts.

"Hey."

I very nearly groan out loud when I see the college kid standing over me. It's not that I don't think he's hot or appreciate the attention, because he is, and I do, but he's needy, clingy, and I just don't want that in my life right now.

Or ever.

"Hi."

"So I was just wondering about yesterday?"

I sip my coffee and try to make myself look as innocent as possible. "Yesterday?"

"Um, yeah. The weird thing, where I asked you out, and then you kinda declined?"

"I didn't kind of decline. I said no."

"Yeah, but..."

"And then left."

"Yeah."

"So..."

"But you said you weren't taken."

"At no point did I say that," I counter, trying to keep my cool. "You assumed. I merely asked what would happen if I wasn't taken, and then you asked me out."

"You didn't have to walk out like that," he says, and I swear to God there's a hint of a pout on those lips.

"Oh but I did." I stand, and grab my cup. "And now I am again."