Page 44 of The Maine Event

“Oh, I’m absolutely judging you,” I tease. “But respectfully.”

He leans back in the booth, his gaze resting on me for a beat too long. “You’re different when you’re not pitching something.”

That catches me off guard. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” he says, swirling the ice in his glass. “More… you, I guess.”

I don’t know what to say to that. So, I take a sip and deflect with another question. “This is your hangout, then?”

He shrugs. “Not really. I used to come here when… Well, back when I actually had a social life.”

“Before Chloe,” I guess, and he nods.

“It’s not like I mind,” he says quickly, almost defensively. “But yeah. Things are different now. Priorities shift.”

I tilt my head, studying him. “You ever think about getting back into acting? Or something else, maybe? You’ve got this energy that just… belongs in front of people.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah. That ship’s sailed. But you’re not the first person to suggest it.”

“What about teaching?” I offer. “I saw you with the kids at the rehearsals. You were great with them.”

He glances at me, a little surprised. “You think so?”

I nod. “Totally. You brought out their confidence without making them feel silly or self-conscious. They loved it.”

He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, mulling it over. “I like it, helping out at the school, I mean. But teaching means evenings and weekends—prime Chloe time. I’m not sure I’m ready to give that up. Besides, part of me feels like I’d be helping other people’s kids at the expense of my own.”

I give him a gentle smile. “You’re a good dad, you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, just gives me a shy sort of grin and swirls the ice in his glass.

“So,” he says, shifting gears, “you never really answered my question the other night. What’s with the PR obsession? You sure that’s your life’s calling?”

I smile wryly. “Absolutely. It’s more than just work. I love it. I fell into it by accident, to be honest. Interned for the summer after my sophomore year and I knew straight away that’s what I wanted to do when I graduated. There’s something thrilling about crafting a story, finding the angle that’ll hook people. It’s like getting into their minds and figuring out what makes them tick. Building awareness. Making connections. I guess I love the challenge of it.”

“But does it make you happy?”

The question lingers between us, heavier than I expected. I hesitate.

“Sometimes. It’s rewarding when things go right. But it’s exhausting, too. Working for a big firm means constantly being available. It never really stops.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “You know… to do your job well, you kind of have to be something of an actor too. Pitching, convincing, persuading…”

I laugh. “I never thought of it like that.”

He grins and picks up his pen from the table, absently sketching on a napkin while I watch him, curiosity piqued.

“What are you doodling?” I ask.

He glances at me and then, almost reluctantly, slides the napkin across the table. Instead of pictures, there are words:character or actor?

I look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

He shrugs, giving me that crooked half-smile. “Just something I’ve been thinking about lately. About… being who people expect, versus being who you really are.”

I trace the words with my fingertip, my mind whirring with thoughts. “So… which are you?” I challenge.

His smile turns wistful. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out.”

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