At No Time || Bruno Mars

41

Hell, Peter had not either, but he did the best to disguise the ache in his voice when he told him she had moved back to New York. Bill had about a thousand and one more questions about her, and it took a lot out of Peter to lie about them all. Getting over heartbreak was hard enough without the constant badgering from others, but he could not blame them. Trystan had left a mark on almost everyone she had met in the town. Her leaving was disheartening to many involved.

When Bill arrived back with Peter's sandwich and fries, he enticed him with conversation—how work was going, had he gotten any new deals, where he was flying to next, all questions asked to cushion the one Peter knew he was fixing to say next.

"So . . . heard from Miss New York lately?"

Peter chuckled and replied before taking a sip of his water, "No, I haven't, Bill."

The older man threw up his hands. "Hey, I miss her; she was a cool gal."

"I know, but you know we haven't spoken in years; whatever she's doing with her life now, I'm not aware of," Peter told him nonchalantly. He did not know why the senior had not let it go—Peter had been telling him the same thing for the past two years. But he tried not to mind; Bill had become like the father he never had, so he could deal with occasional, aggravating question.

Bill made a noise. "Pity. You want me to box that up for you?"

He left with Peter's debit card and gave it to a female worker with curly, bright orange hair before going in the back to get a to-go box. Peter had never seen the woman before, and leaned forward to get a better look and saw that she was pretty cute. When Bill returned, he asked who she was.

Bill looked at him disapprovingly and snickered. "Nuh-uh. That one's off-limits, Peter."

"Aww, come on, Bill! She can't have a little fun?" Peter pressured facetiously.

"She's from Virginia—one of my good friend's daughters. He told me to watch out for her while she's over here finishing her last year of school. So I'm doing my duty and keeping her away from you."

Peter feigned hurt. "That cut deep, Bill."

He shrugged. "Hey, you know yourself better than I do. You get around. I'm trying to keep her outta as much trouble as I can!" he chuckled. "Besides, aren't you tired of running after all these women all the time? You aren't lookin' for somebody to call ya own?"

Peter did not bother to appear thoughtful. He shook his head absolutely. "Nah. I'm just doing my own thing right now. Too busy with work for any relationship. The only girls in my life now are my sister, niece, and new puppy."

Bill tittered, "You got a dog? You never struck me as a pet person. What breed is she?"

"German Shepherd. Name's Jewel. Found her out by my car yesterday and took her to a clinic. She's only a couple months old. She's good so far, but I need a trainer. I can't have her shitting in her cage forever," Peter laughed as he grabbed his bag to leave. If he did not make it home soon, his complaint would come true once again.

"A trainer, huh?" Bill cocked a brow and stroked his beard. "Before your time I used to help a friend breed and train dogs. I could help you out if you want—no charge."

"Really? That would be great. You know I'd have to pay you, though." Peter told him.

Bill waved his hand flippantly. "All those heavy tips and business you've brought me over the years? This one's on me."

Peter's phone rang, and he saw that it was Seymour calling again. On the verge of blocking his co-worker's number, he told Bill he would come by his house the following day before taking the call.