Kayden is two drinks into a bottle of scotch when his doorbell rings at nine PM.
He considers ignoring it. Considers pretending he's not home, that he's anywhere but alone in this apartment that still smells faintly like Andrea's perfume despite two weeks of her absence. But the doorbell rings again, persistent, and with a sigh that's more exhaustion than annoyance, he answers.
Mateo stands in the hallway, holding a bag from Kayden's favorite Thai place and wearing an expression of careful concern.
"Heard you had a rough day," Mateo says. "Thought you could use some company. And pad thai."
Kayden should send him away. Should say he wants to be alone, that he's fine, that he doesn't need anyone's pity or concern. But the apartment is too quiet, his thoughts too loud, and the prospect of another hour alone with nothing but scotch and regret feels unbearable.
"Come in," he says, stepping aside.
