"I want you not to ask me that as if I can answer for both of us."
His phone buzzed a third time. This time the message was from Jorge in facilities: NYH confirmation packet landed in your inbox. Legal needs signature of intent by Friday noon or they move to the Bridgeport candidate. Sorry to chase. Congrats either way.
Declan turned the phone face down. "Friday is a crowded day."
"Friday always is when you've avoided Monday through Thursday."
Outside, the rain paused long enough for the street to shine. Rhea reached across the table and touched the back of his hand, not claiming it, only confirming it was still there. "Drink your coffee. Then we go get your umbrella. Then we talk to Cormac like adults instead of like children assigned to opposite rooms."
"And after that?"
"After that we still won't be finished," she said. "But we will have stopped pretending coffee was enough."
They drank. The mugs emptied in uneven swallows. When they stood, Rhea opened the umbrella again, and Declan stepped under it without the performance of reluctance. On the way out Arlo called, "Same time next week?"
Declan hesitated.
Rhea answered for both of them. "Same time. Different conversation."
Arlo nodded as if that were the only honest special a cafe could offer.
The duplex sat on a side street where the maples had already begun to drop their first serious leaves, wet and yellow, stuck to the sidewalk like poorly sent mail. Cormac Hoyt's porch light was on though it was only late afternoon, a habit from the winter after Declan's mother died, when darkness had arrived earlier than anyone was ready for. The tan umbrella Declan had left leaned exactly where he had placed it, looking abandoned and orderly at once. Brenna opened the door before they knocked.
She was two years older than Declan, sharper in the jaw, dressed in the kind of practical sweater that announced she had driven ninety minutes in rain to solve other people's hesitation. Behind her, cardboard boxes made a soft maze through the living room. Cormac sat in his recliner with a mug and a face that had learned dignity the hard way.
"You brought Rhea," Brenna said, which was not quite a greeting.
"I brought my wife," Declan said. "She tends to come with me."
Rhea stepped in, collapsed the umbrella, and kissed Cormac's cheek. "Hi, Dad."
Cormac's mouth softened. "You look like you walked through a river to get here."
"Only half a river," Rhea said. "Your son preferred the scenic route."
Brenna's eyes flicked to Declan's wet sleeves, then to the umbrella now in his hand. "You left that on purpose."
"I left it because I needed air."