“I said, you’re drunk, Matt, and I can see why the girl is half a country away, and twenty-seven is terrifically young to me, light or no light.”
“Well, thirty-five is young too,” I said. “Terrifically young.”
“You’re good to say so. You seem to be in a great mood, Hannah. I’m glad.”
“I am; you’re right. It’s the weather. April’s finicky in Colorado, blizzards or sunshine. It’s sunshine right now.”
“I know. I’m in town.”
I sat up. “You are?”
“Yes. I said we ought to go to the zoo in the spring, didn’t I? I’m here with Owen. But can you believe my own wife and daughter preferred New York to my company in Denver? Worse, they’re out there with Seth. I wonder if I should be worried.” Nate laughed.
“Seth?” My voice was airless. “New York?”
“Yes, didn’t you hear? He finally signed a record deal. Goldengrove is off touring.”
“Oh…”
“I thought he would have told you. He gave me to understand you two hit it off. Wasn’t he in town for the release party?”
“For a gig,” I said. “I saw him at the party, yes.” I walked to a leaning mirror and watched the color return to my face. So, Seth was keeping his word. He was keeping our secret.
“Well, Hannah, what do you say?”
“Excuse me?”
“The zoo. You, me, and a very excitable nine-year-old.”
“Uh, sure. Of course.” I tried to sound cheerful. I couldn’t see any way out of it, and once I regained my composure and my good mood, I might even enjoy it. As long as Nate didn’t bring up Shapiro and Night Owl …
“Great. I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow?”
“It’s Thursday. I’ve got work. Maybe I can—”
“No, no, I cleared that with Pam.”
I gaped at my reflection. Cleared that with Pam?
“Nate! Would you please stop going over my head like that?”
“I don’t know, Hannah. Old dog, new tricks. See you at ten.”
I smiled and sighed. These incorrigible brothers. “See you at ten.”
*
Nate held Owen’s hand as we walked through the zoo.
“Let me see!” Owen shouted every several minutes. Nate, wearing an eternally patient expression, would release the boy’s hand and watch like a hawk as Owen raced to this or that enclosure. Soon, Owen returned and reattached himself to Nate.
Owen quizzed me as we sat in the Wolf Pack Woods and waited to glimpse an arctic wolf. “Do you live by yourself?” he said. “Do you have a boyfriend? Do you rent your own house? Are you in love with someone?”
“Owen,” Nate finally said, “stop being annoying. You don’t ask questions like that.”
“It’s fine.” I laughed.
The animals were lively in the cool morning. We spent at least an hour watching the hyenas, lions, and African wild dogs. The tigers made me think of Matt. To and fro they loped, their majestic coats rippling, their stares stoic and knowing.
“You like the tigers,” Nate said. I smiled at him. How strange it had been, to see Nate observing the hawks in the aviary. Nate was so hawkish himself. That day, he wore his usual formal attire—dress slacks and a pale button-down shirt, no tie, his wool coat unbuttoned. I wondered if he owned a pair of jeans.
“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I love the big cats.”
“Are you going to ask me about the lawsuit, Hannah?”
I shook my head.
“I told Shapiro not to bother you about it,” Nate said. “He hasn’t, has he?”
“No.”
“Good. I could tell it troubled you. It scared you off, didn’t it? Something about the litigation is bothering you. Hannah, tell me.” Nate came around, placing himself between me and the glass enclosure. His dark eyes implored me. “You can tell me.”
“Are you trying to scare me off? I’d rather be home alone than talking about this.”
Hurt flashed across Nate’s face.
“I see,” he said.
“What, is there some news? Something I should know?”
“Yes. Do you want to know?”