Devin texted me. Just to check in, he said. The Tribeca clients had signed off on the design concept and he wanted me to know.
I typed back: Thank you. That's a relief.
He wrote: You sound tired even in text. Are you okay?
I stared at my phone for a long time. Then I wrote: Not really. But I'm working on it.
He wrote: I know a good rooftop for that.
I smiled for the first time in four days.
We met on Thursday evening, not at the Tribeca rooftop, which was a construction site after hours, but at a bar on the Upper West Side that had a heated terrace. The kind of place that felt like a secret you had not meant to find.
I told myself it was professional. He was a site manager on a project I was working on. This was networking. I wore the green dress.
We sat across from each other with
