Chapter 2

Neal was acting out of character, and Joyce felt she knew why. "Are you still mad at me?" "No, I'm not." He looked at her calmly, almost resigned. He didn't seem to be putting on an act, but Joyce still felt something was wrong. She checked the time and decided to compromise for once. "It's late, so I'll go with you." She turned to head to the foyer, but Neal said impatiently, "There's no need for that. I'm meeting with friends; having you there would be inconvenient." Joyce faltered at his words, a trace of surprise flashing in her eyes. She didn't expect him to reject her offer. When they'd first gotten together, Neal had suggested introducing her to his friends several times. She'd always turned him down, using her work as an excuse. Now, she'd brought it up, yet he'd turned her down. She was about to say something else when he strode past her and left the apartment. … The gathering was in a private room in a bar. The people inside gasped when Neal walked in. "Whoa, we have a special guest today! What brings you here, Mr. Bolton? I thought you would've given an excuse to pull out at the last minute, as always." "Exactly. You always say you're busy when we call you out for drinks. We thought you were really going to abandon all of us for a woman's sake!" Neal felt a little ashamed at their teasing. He smiled self-deprecatingly and said, "The old me was silly enough to distance myself from my friends over a woman who doesn't love me. I lost my sense of self." He sat down and grabbed a bottle of beer, taking a sip. The taste of alcohol permeated his senses, and his gaze turned reminiscent. He'd always loved drinking but had quit because Joyce didn't like it. Joyce always thought she and Neal had met through a blind date, but she was wrong. Neal had first met her during his parents' joint funeral. He'd only been ten, yet he'd had to organize a joint funeral for his parents. His relatives had tried to comfort him, telling him to keep his head up and focus on the guests. But when he pressed the button for the furnace to cremate his parents' bodies, his composure finally shattered. He'd run off and hidden himself in a corner to cry. Joyce had found him then. She was the daughter of his mother's best friend. She hadn't said anything when seeing his tears. Instead, she'd sat beside him and given him a candy. "Do you want candy?" He'd taken it from her while sobbing. He popped it into his mouth; the sugary sweetness spread in his mouth, but it didn't stop his tears from flowing. "I don't have a mom and dad anymore. I miss them so much…" Joyce had only been a few years older than him, but she'd been mature beyond her years. She'd caressed his head and said, "Don't be scared, okay? They're still with you. Think of it this way—they're at work while you're at school, and they're on business trips when you're eating at home. "When you leave the house to look for them, that's when they return. They'll always be with you; it's just that you guys happen to miss each other all the time. You'll eventually be reunited, though." At those words, Neal had looked up to stare dazedly at Joyce. From that moment on, those words had kept him going despite the loneliness. He'd convinced himself that his parents were still around; they just constantly missed out on each other. He told himself they would eventually run into each other again. Neal had never forgotten Joyce or her words, even if the only thing he knew about her was her name. Many years later, after he'd grown up, Joyce's mother, Marie Clayton, arranged for him and Joyce to go on a blind date.