Emmett couldn't stomach the fact that his first shot at love had crashed and burned, especially to someone like Elio.
...
The appointed hour had arrived.
Elio, toting a bottle of fine wine, headed straight for their meeting.
After a considerable wait in the restaurant, Newell sauntered in, looking a bit under the weather with a palpable weariness in his eyes.
"What's up with you? You look beat."
"It's nothing," Newell waved dismissively. "Just had a late night with some buddies. I got wrapped up in a poker game and skipped sleep. I saw the time and realized it was time to meet you, so I came straight here."
"You didn't drive, did you?"
"Nope, had my driver bring me."
Elio nodded in relief. "Good to hear. I was worried you might be driving tired! If you were that beat, you should've just called to cancel, man. No biggie. We could meet up tomorrow, or the day after."
"Ah, that would be such a letdown! You rarely ask me out, and if I had said no, it'd be like slapping your hospitality in the face." Newell plunked down in a chair, his gaze quickly drawn to the bottle in Elio's hand, a sly smile forming. "Well, look at you bringing out the big guns! That's some pricey wine, huh?"
Elio set the wine on the table. "Sure, it's a treasure. But next to our friendship, it's pocket change!"
"Oh?" Newell raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the feeling you're buttering me up for a favor?"
"What could I possibly need from you?"
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