Two weeks later, Brian has a handful of meetings in Pittsburgh with a few clients who still prefer to work directly with him instead of with the account executives we’ve hired since both of us moved to Manhattan, so it’s up to me to keep the NYC branch running once again while he’s out of town. It’s also Brian’s birthday, so he and Justin leave a couple of days early, just as they’ve done the last couple of times Brian had to go to Pittsburgh for business, and I’m happy that they’re getting a little time to themselves. They both need that, even if Brian would insist that he doesn’t need breaks or rest.

When he gets back, he has lunch with Rob, which has become a rarity over the last couple of months, since Rob has apparently been taking a page out of Brian’s book and burning the candle at both ends. I could hear bits and pieces of Brian’s half of the conversation, though, and it sounded like Brian had to talk Rob into even letting him bring lunch over to Rob’s office. Rob must have relented, though, because Brian leaves and is gone for a couple of hours. When he comes back, he’s distracted and obviously worried, and I end up practically taking over for him in our 2 p.m. client meeting, because he’s about a million miles away.

“How’s Rob?” I ask, once we shake hands, sign contracts, and send the client on their way, leaving Brian and I alone in the conference room.

“Huh?” Brian shakes his head, seemingly bringing himself out of his thoughts and back to reality.

“You had lunch with Rob, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is he doing okay?”

“Same shit, different day. I just wish I could find a way to get him to come work for us. They’re treating him like shit, and he’s putting up with it, because he’s too damn loyal.”

“There must be some reason why he’s staying. Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks from your perspective.”

“Oh, it’s just as bad. Actually I’m not sure he’s telling me all of it, so it’s probably worse. He says he doesn’t know shit about advertising, but he does. Sales is basically advertising. He’s smart; he’d figure it out.”

“So why do you think he’s turning you down?”

“I think he likes security. He’s been there a long time. He’s got seniority, though fuck-all good that’s doing him right now. I get that, because I’ve been there with Ryder and Vangard. But sometimes you just have to step out on your own.”

“Can you honestly tell me you would have started this company, though, if you hadn’t been pushed? If Gardner hadn’t fired you?”

“Good point. I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have. I get his hesitation and where it’s coming from, but we’re an established company now. So it’s not like I’m asking him to take a chance on me. Not the way I did with you.”

“Maybe he feels like you’re only offering him the position because you’re friends?”

“Maybe.” Brian shrugs. “I care about him. He’s running himself into the fucking ground right now.”

“Gee, I don’t know anyone else who’s like that at all.” I smile, and Brian gives me a look that clearly says, go to hell. I stand and pick up the stack of signed contracts and other paperwork from the table so I can take it to Jonathan, our executive assistant, to be sent on to the right people and then filed away. “Maybe he’ll come around.”

“Let’s hope so, before he has a goddamn heart attack.” Brian shifts his body back slightly in his wheelchair before turning to follow me out of the room. He goes into his office and closes the door -- something he only does when he needs time alone to think, which tells me he’s probably a heck of a lot more worried about Rob than he’s letting on, and there’s probably more to the story than what he told me.

A few days later, I’m sitting at my desk, browsing one of my dating apps as I work on putting together some mock-ups for a prospective client, when one of our interns appears outside my office door, looking nervous.

“Can I help you?” I ask, trying not to sound intimidating, given that this poor kid already looks like he’s about to piss himself.

“I, uh…” he stutters, shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot. “Jonathan told me he really needs Mr. Kinney to sign off on this, like… now. But his door is closed and there’s someone in there, and I don’t want to go back with it unsigned--”

“Give it to me,” I interrupt him, just to stop him from continuing to babble on in my doorway. I hold out my hand and motion for him to hand me the document, which he does, after slowly and cautiously approaching my desk as if I’m a tiger who might attack him at any moment. This kid is never going to survive at this company, I think to myself as I look over the paperwork, trying to figure out what the heck it is and whether or not it’s something I can sign off on instead, but since it already has Brian’s name on it, printed below the signature line, it doesn’t look like that’s possible. I haven’t forged his signature in years, nor has he asked me to, so I’m definitely not going to start again today, especially since I don’t have a clue what this is about. “Leave it with me. I’ll have him sign it. Tell Jonathan I said to keep his pants on.”

The kid nods and licks his lips, then turns and leaves, still looking petrified, though I know that once Jonathan hears that I’m taking care of it, he’ll be fine. Jonathan is a bit of a queen, with a flair for the dramatic, so I seriously doubt that there’s as much urgency around getting this paperwork signed as the kid was led to believe. Still, I won’t make him sweat, so I get up from my desk and make my way to Brian’s office, finding that, just as the kid said, the door is closed, which is odd, because I know Brian didn’t have any meetings this morning. So I try to position myself to look through the window without being too obvious, and I can see that Rob is in there, sitting on the sofa with Brian, and they’re drinking. It’s not even noon, so that’s more than a little unusual, particularly for Rob, whom I’m not sure drinks alcohol at all. He won’t even drink coffee. But, sure as shit, he’s got a glass of Jim Beam in his hand, and so does Brian.

Still trying to keep from being seen, I get as good of a look at Rob as I can, and it’s obvious that he’s been crying. Now I’m worried, and I’m wondering what the hell is going on, but I definitely won’t be interrupting their conversation. So I slowly turn and walk back toward my own office, unsigned paperwork in hand, resisting the urge to go into our shared bathroom to eavesdrop on what’s happening in Brian’s office. I hope nothing is wrong, but the scene I just saw seems to indicate otherwise, so I’ll have to settle for hoping that whatever it is, it’s not too serious. But I also know Rob isn’t really a crier, so...

I try to keep working, but it’s hard to do because I’m distracted. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I see Rob leaving, heading toward the elevator at the other end of the hallway. I take a deep breath and pick up the folder as I stand and smooth out my skirt, not bothering to put my shoes back on this time because my new Louboutins are not being kind to my toes today. When I get to Brian’s office door, which is open this time, he’s pouring himself two fingers of whiskey, which he quickly downs before setting the glass back down to pour himself some more.

“Everything okay?” I ask hesitantly, knowing that the answer to that question is obviously no, but I don’t know how the hell else I’m supposed to start this conversation without revealing that I was practically spying on them a few minutes ago.

Brian looks up at me, clearly shell-shocked by whatever conversation he and Rob just had, but motions for me to come in.

“Close the door,” he says, and I do, before crossing the room to take a seat next to him on the sofa. “What’s that?” He gestures toward the folder in my hand, as I lay it on the coffee table in front of us.

“Oh, just some paperwork Jonathan needed your signature on.”

“And he sent you?”

“No, he sent that intern who’s afraid of everybody.”

“Figures,” Brian scoffs. “I thought I saw him outside the door a while ago.”

I don’t say anything, though I’m hoping Brian didn’t see me as well -- I wouldn’t know, since I was too focused on Rob. But Brian doesn’t mention it. Instead, he pulls a pen out of his pocket and leans forward, setting his glass down as he flips the folder open and scribbles his signature on the marked line without even reading what he’s signing. I guess maybe he already knew what it was. Let’s hope, anyway. When he’s done, he lays the pen down next to the folder and picks up his glass again, pushing off of his knee to sit up straight before leaning back and closing his eyes. He takes a sip of whiskey and lets out a long breath. I’m just about to ask him again if everything is alright, when he suddenly blurts out, “Rob has a tumor.”

“What?” I blink at Brian, wondering if I heard him correctly, and hoping I didn’t.

“He’s got a tumor on his spine. It’s in his neck. Pressing on his spinal cord, I guess. He can hardly use his right hand anymore. Damn doctor told him it was nothing the first time -- just stress and overworking. Thank god he went back, because…” Brian doesn’t finish that sentence, and I’m sure it’s because he doesn’t want to think about what the end of it would be, and I don’t either. Why the fuck do bad things happen to good people?

“Is he going to be okay?” I know it’s a dumb question, but I really don’t know what else to say.

Brian shrugs. “They don’t know. He’s having surgery next week.”

“Wow.” I shake my head in disbelief, knowing that the fact that they’ve scheduled the surgery so soon means there’s a sense of urgency about this, and it’s probably very serious. “Does he need anything?”

“I don’t know. Probably. Not sure he knows what yet. But I’ll do whatever I can.”

“We’ll take care of things here, so you can do whatever you need to do.”

“Thanks.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Brian leaning back against the sofa cushions with his eyes closed while I try to figure out if I should stay or go. Just as I’m getting ready to stand up and leave Brian alone to try to process whatever he’s thinking about, he speaks again.

“He’s fucking scared to death.” Brian pauses and takes a gulp of his whiskey, nearly finishing what’s left in the glass in one shot. All I can think of is how I haven’t seen him drink like this in a long, long time, and that behavior alone is telling me a lot about his mental state at the moment. “Hell, I would be too. It’s like… you spend all of this time coming to terms with what happened to you, accepting that this is your reality, and it’s forever. There’s no changing it and no taking it back, so you have two choices: staying stuck or moving forward. You choose to move forward, and you make the best of it, and it’s fucking hard -- really fucking hard -- but you do it anyway. And then somehow, ten years later, all of a sudden you realize this feels like normal and thinking about standing or walking feels strange… like everything’s flipped. But to have to do that all over again, now…” This time, Brian does drain the rest of the glass, and I gently take it from his hand and set it aside on the coffee table, hoping he’s not going to ask me for a refill because I’m not sure I want to give it to him. “I can’t even fucking imagine. Just, surprise, you’re a quad now. Oh, and you might have cancer, too. What the fuck do you do with that? All I can think of is that I’m fucking glad it’s not me.” Brian snorts, then finally looks at me, his hazel eyes boring into mine with an intensity that’s usually only reserved for proving himself to asshole clients. “Guess that makes me a pretty shitty friend, huh?”

“I think it just makes you human,” I say honestly, holding Brian’s gaze and trying to figure out what I see in there. I see worry, sure, but mostly, I see fear, though I’m not sure if it’s fear on Rob’s behalf, or fear of not being able to be the friend Rob needs right now. “You’re a good friend. Trust me, I should know.”

Brian has more than proven over the years what a great friend he is -- not just with me, but with everyone he cares about. I think people get distracted by the cynical, self-centered persona Brian often projects to strangers, but those of us who know him well are fully aware that -- though he certainly can be a little self-absorbed at times -- he cares deeply for his friends and the people he considers to be family. If you need something, he won’t hesitate to provide it, although he wants to do it behind the scenes, without fanfare, and if you try to thank him, he’ll make some caustic remark. But he’s exactly the kind of person you want to have in your corner.

Brian nods and looks away again, pulling his lower lip into his mouth, but I expected that because I know that he still has a hard time accepting compliments like that. You can compliment his work all day long and he’ll soak that right up with an air about him that says, “Damn right I am,” but compliment some personal characteristic of his, and suddenly he becomes this shy kid who doesn’t think he’s worth a damn. And when you get to see that, that’s when you’ve gotten to know the real Brian Kinney. The man beneath the mask. He’s come a long way since meeting Justin, but I don’t think those insecurities will ever be totally gone -- they’re rooted too deeply. And I hate that for him, because he really is a good person, even if people have told him all of his life that he’s not. I wouldn’t have stayed with him all these years if he wasn’t.

He leans forward and reaches for the whiskey bottle on the coffee table, presumably to pour himself another glass, but I stop him by laying my hand over his.

“Why don’t you go home?” I suggest, keeping my voice as gentle as possible. “Be with Justin. Go check on Rob. We’ll handle the Eyeconics meeting.”

I expect him to argue, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes his hand off the bottle and sits back into the sofa cushions, letting his eyes close again. He sits there for a moment, just breathing, then swallows hard and blinks his eyes open before uttering a quiet, “Okay.”

“Want me to call a car for you?”

“I’ll do it.” He looks at me again, and I see a vulnerability in his eyes that I don’t see very often. “I just… I need a minute.”

“Sure.” I give Brian my best reassuring smile as I stand, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about him. I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on inside his head, though I know that’s a tall order, because Brian Kinney is a complex man. It’s obvious that this happening to Rob has brought up a lot of feelings in Brian that he probably hasn’t revisited in a long time.

I still remember when Brian first met Rob -- when he told me that the most bizarre thing had happened at his afternoon meeting, and he’d ended up casually meeting another wheelchair user for the first time outside of rehab and the support group that his therapist had sent him to. And I remember how it seemed like they were becoming more than business associates -- they were becoming friends.

I think Rob’s friendship did more for Brian at that time than Brian even realized. Slowly, Brian started to emerge from the shell he’d built around himself after his accident. The rest of us had been trying to chip at it for a couple of years at that point, and Justin seemed to have made some really good progress with the help of Brian’s therapist, but Rob was the one who pushed Brian to break it wide open, just by showing him what life could be like for him, post-spinal-cord-injury. I’m not sure Brian would be the person he is today if they hadn’t met, to be honest. It’s like they were destined to meet each other that day, and maybe they were. Brian needed Rob all those years ago, and now, Rob needs Brian.

Meanwhile, I’ll make sure that I’m doing everything I can to keep things running smoothly at the office, so Brian can do whatever he needs to do to support his friend. Our friend, really. I join them for lunch sometimes, since our offices are close by, and I really enjoy being around Rob. He’s a nice guy, and in a lot of ways the total opposite of Brian, which I guess might be what makes them get along so well. They balance each other out. But Rob is just as funny and sarcastic as Brian is, and they play off of each other, which has made for some hilarious lunch breaks over the years, just watching the two of them banter back and forth. I care about Rob too, though, and I really hope that all of this is going to turn out alright.

With everything that’s going on with Rob, and with attempting to keep Brian sane while simultaneously trying to make sure everything at Kinnetik is getting done to our usual standards, I don’t really have much brain space to devote to thinking about the fact that my period should have come last week and never did. In fact, I never even realized it. But once I do, suddenly that's the only thing I can think about.

Even with all of the different ways I protect myself -- namely, an IUD and always using condoms too -- the cold, hard truth is that no method of birth control is 100% foolproof. Everything has a failure rate, save for abstinence, of course. So if one is a woman of childbearing age and has an active sex life, there’s always, always a risk of getting pregnant. And any time my period is late, that’s usually the first thought that enters my mind, no matter how remote the possibility may seem.

It hasn’t happened in a long time, because thankfully, my cycle is pretty regular, but this time, that predictable regularity only serves to ratchet up my fears. I want to talk about this with somebody, and normally Brian would be that somebody, but I can’t do that right now because he has more than enough on his plate. Honestly, I think he’s more worried about Rob than he’s willing to admit, so even when he is in the office, he’s very distracted and his mood is… strange. Several of our employees are already avoiding him, which leaves me to be the messenger when someone does need something from Brian that I can’t take care of on my own. And it leaves me taking care of a whole heck of a lot.

So I try to push my worry out of my head, telling myself that I was well protected, so it’s probably just a fluke, and I dive further into work, taking care of a lot of the details of Brian’s accounts as well as my own, trying to make things easier for him. It reminds me a little of the days after the bombing at Babylon, when Brian was physically present in the office, but his mind was clearly elsewhere, and his temper was on a hair trigger. Those of us who know Brian well know how he gets when something happens to someone he cares about and he can’t fix it. But those who don’t -- like our poor interns -- get to bear the brunt of Brian's wrath as he takes out his frustration on them.

Brian and I spend an entire lunch break brainstorming various ideas to get Rob to come and work for us, but we both know that it’s probably not a good time to be trying to sell Rob on anything. I wish he’d come join us too, because I’ve seen what a hard worker he is, and how committed he is to the things he’s passionate about. Brian has been thinking of making a larger investment in GoodLife Robotics for a while now, and if we did that, Rob would be perfect to work closely with them. Still, what he needs right now is stability, so no matter how badly Brian and I want him on our team, if he’s not comfortable making the jump, we have to accept that.

The day of Rob’s surgery, our office schedule is insane, with all of our meetings crammed into the morning hours because Brian plans to take off after lunch so he can go to the hospital. By the time the meetings are over, I’m wishing he would have taken the whole day off, because he spent most of them furtively checking his phone for updates that apparently weren’t coming, and I ended up carrying them pretty much on my own anyhow. So I’m honestly kind of grateful to see him finally leave, because it means I’ll only be managing my own self, instead of trying to take care of everything I’m supposed to be taking care of while also keeping Brian from fucking anything up.

Even amidst all of this distraction, the fact that my period still hasn’t come is weighing heavily on my mind. To be honest, it’s starting to freak me out, though I’ve been trying to play it cool so I don’t end up adding to Brian’s stress. Not to mention the fact that I can’t get Rich’s words out of my head: What’s going to happen if we decide to have a family someday? Are our kids even going to know who their mother is, or are you going to be spending all of your time at work?

The bottom line is that I don’t want kids or a family. For one, I feel like I’m too old -- no fucking way do I want to be over 60 with a kid graduating high school. Secondly, while I don’t particularly want to be a mom at all, I really don’t want to be a single mom, but that’s more than likely what I’d be no matter who the kid’s father turns out to be -- Rich or my one-night stand from the bar whose name I don’t even remember. I’m sure I could find him easily enough since he apparently frequents that bar, but the last thing I want to do is walk up to someone and be like, “Hey, remember me? Remember that night we had drunken sex at your apartment? Well, surprise, I’m pregnant!” He already has kids, so I’m sure he doesn’t want to have another one with me. And I’m sure as hell not interested in raising any kids with Rich. So that leaves me, myself, and I -- just like always. The independent woman, now somehow feeling cursed by my own womanhood.

There’s also the question of how it happened in the first place, since I’ve had my IUD for a while, and I always use a condom too -- and the night I spent with the guy from the bar was no exception. But, again, nothing is 100% effective, so it’s definitely possible, though that still doesn’t stop me from feeling a little bit pissed off about it, or like the universe is playing some sort of a sick joke on me.

I’m not sure I’ve ever hoped harder for my period to come in my entire life, but wishing it into existence doesn’t seem to be doing shit.

The one bright spot in my day is the text I get from Brian late in the afternoon, letting me know that Rob’s tumor was benign and they were able to remove all of it, and he’s expected to make a full recovery with no lasting effects. I know Brian is relieved, and I am too, because I love Rob and his adorable little family and I don’t want to see them go through anything more than they have already.

As June turns into July, things start to get back to normal at the office, with Brian and I both working, which means we’re better able to delegate tasks between the two of us. Rob’s recovery is going well, and Brian is a lot less distracted, though he’s still very busy, and so am I. That’s normal too, though. But there’s one thing that still hasn’t gotten back to normal: my period. I’ve already taken a pregnancy test, and it was negative, but the fact that my period still hasn’t come is starting to make me doubt its efficacy.

I’ve been spending some later nights at the office, but I don’t mind because I honestly don’t have anything else to do, since my paranoia about being pregnant is keeping me from wanting to go on a date or have sex with anyone else for the time being. So I’m sitting by myself in an otherwise-empty office, working on a couple of new campaigns, when I suddenly decide to take another test in an attempt to put my mind at ease, even though I know the only thing that would truly do that at this point is the arrival of my period.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in a long checkout line at a very busy drugstore, feeling a whole lot of weird about standing in line holding a pregnancy test. Feeling like people are looking at me and judging me, especially since there’s no ring on my finger. I think about how most women are probably excited when they make this purchase, but some women -- myself included -- are scared to death. In a way, I feel like the inanimate object I’m holding in my hand has the ability to determine my future. And if I get a positive result, I honestly have no idea what I’ll do.

Finally, I get to the front of the line and make my purchase, trying to ignore the smile on the cashier’s face, as if she’s happy for me even though she has no idea who the fuck I am or whether or not I even want a kid. Why do people always seem to assume the possibility of pregnancy is a happy occasion? For me, it would be an absolute fucking disaster.

I go back to the office and let myself back in, soon finding myself on the toilet in the bathroom between Brian’s and my offices, practically holding my breath as I pee on the little stick. I try to keep breathing as I wait for the result, hoping and praying that the second line will stay invisible, indicating I’m not pregnant. But once I’ve waited the prescribed length of time, what I see leaves me feeling more mystified than relieved.

The control line is there, of course, nice and dark. But alongside it is the faintest ghost of a second line, making me wonder if my eyes are playing tricks on me or if I really am pregnant. I’m tempted to go back to the store and get a second test, but the last thing I want to do is have to repeat that experience, which felt eerily like some bizarre walk of shame. After holding the test up to the light and using the flashlight on my phone to try to examine it even more closely, I come to the conclusion that there is definitely something there -- it just isn’t nearly as clear as I would have expected it to be. Still, it’s there.

And I know what it means -- that I have some very important decisions to make.