“You’re welcome to join me,” I say with a smile, literally praying she’ll say yes.

“Ah, you see…while you take your little sabbatical, I’ll be hard at work making up for your absence.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded, “You’re welcome.”

“Oh sorry,” I say, sitting up to look her straight in the eyes, “thank you so much for stealing all my clients while I watch ‘Atonement’ and walk around in my unattractive sweatpants.”

“That’s better.”

“Well, if you find time in your busy schedule you should come watch movies with me.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Our typical moment of comfortable silence passes between us and I smile—like always—to let her know I don’t mind. Because I could just look at her face forever sometimes and this was definitely one of those times. Other times I just liked the feeling of knowing she was right in front of me, leaving her bodily imprint right there at the end of my bed as proof that she did like me. Because she stayed long enough to leave her history behind.

“Ashley?”

“Spencer…”

“What do you think of Aiden?”

I knew I was taking a risk, but I also knew that one day I’d have to know the answer. The curiosity would eat away at me if I didn’t ask.

“I think he’s an alright guy.”

“Do you talk to him a lot?”

“Like, about work or in general?”

“Both, I guess. Either.”

“I talk to him about work everyday because he lets me know when someone has asked to see me. But generally we don’t really talk. We’re in really different worlds.”

“How so?”

“He might know the guys…set up the meetings, but he’s still really separate from what goes on here. He’s one of them in a way. He works with these people or he knows them from some bourgeois fucking Christmas gala or something, you know? That’s not our world. He’s not one of us…he’s one of them.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“But don’t get me wrong. I think he’s a good guy for the most part.”

“Of course.”

“Right.”

We were silent again, though this time it wasn’t as comfortable. She looked like she was deep in thought now. And I wondered if it was because she was considering letting me in on a secret she had no idea I was already privy to.

“When’s the last time you went out on a real date?” I ask.

I must shock her with my sudden question because she jumps a little, as if she’s been stung.

“A real date? Like a…like a romantic date?”

“Uh-huh, like a romantic date.”

“Maybe a couple years ago. Wait…I’m twenty-six now and my last date was when…ok, yeah. Two years ago.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“You need a date.”