Color leached out of Francis’s face. “Ned. I…I thought you’d wait for me.”
“Why would I do that? You made it very clear we were through.”
“Want me to kick this clown down the stairs?” I asked Ned.
“You?” The color returned to Francis’s face with a vengeance, staining his cheekbones and rising to the tips of his ears. “And what army? You couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag.”
“Why does everyone think that?” I complained. Did I really look that much of a milquetoast?
“Maybe it’s the suit, David.” Ned stroked my shoulder. “I have no doubt you could, but then I’ve seen you out of your clothes.”
“Ned. Please let me come in. I have to talk to you. I’ve…I’ve been such a fool.”
“Yes, you have. You broke my heart, and I have no intention of letting you do it again.” Ned turned his back so Francis wouldn’t see the wink he sent me. “You have to catch your flight, don’t you, David?”