He stared hard at his friend across the small table where they sat perched on stools. He could barely see him through the dark glasses, but he’d tried removing them when they walked in. The dim lighting in the bar was still too hard on his eyes to forego them. Clinking glasses and the rumble of conversation and music swirled around them.

His fingers wrapped around the icy beer glass, slick with condensation.

“Krissa was pretty upset,” he said, marveling at his understatement. Seeing her like that had pulled at something inside him that had been dormant for a long time. The impulse to stride across the deck and tug her into her arms, tuck her against him and try to comfort her shocked him, unsettled him.

Derek met his stare and returned it. “You blame me.”

Nate tipped his head. “Is there someone else to blame?”

“How about her?”

What the fuck? Was Krissa cheating? “What are you saying?” He stared at Derek.

Derek sighed. “She won’t let things go when she gets an idea in her head. And she’s so emotional.”

Nate nodded. That was true. “What is it, Derek? I asked you before, but I’m asking again—are you fucking around on her?”

“No! Jesus. That’s not it.”

“Then what is it? I feel like I walked into the middle of a soap opera. It’s goddamn uncomfortable with all that tension snapping.”

Derek opened his mouth, then closed it. He rubbed his face. “Look I’m sorry, man. This is just really bad timing. Here’s the deal.” He lowered his eyes and stared into his beer glass. “Krissa and I have been trying to have a baby.”

Whoa. Nate’s mind raced ahead. If Krissa was that upset there must be serious problems. “Fuck. Don’t tell me. She can’t get pregnant.”

“Well. That’s what we thought. We’ve both been through a shitload of tests. Turns out it’s me.” He huffed out a short laugh. “Got no swimmers.”

Ah, hell. Nate said nothing. What could he say?

“We just found out yesterday. Got the good news from the doc.” Derek lifted his head and gave Nate a morbid grin. “At least now we know.”

That was shitty news. No man wanted to hear that. “Well. That really sucks, buddy.”

“Yeah. So that’s why I was out getting wasted last night. I know Krissa was pissed, but hell. I just felt like getting wasted.”

“I guess.”

Derek groaned, put his head in his hands, elbows on the table. “You have no idea, man. We’ve been trying for almost two years. The first year wasn’t bad—lots of fucking, anyway. Then it started to get tense. I felt all this…pressure. Felt like a goddamn loser.” He paused. “Like I wasn’t man enough to knock up my own wife. And Krissa…”

“What?”

He turned his head side to side in his hands. “Well, if it wasn’t for her wanting this baby so much, I wouldn’t have…wouldn’t have…fuck.” He lifted his head and reached for his drink.

Silence fell between them, in the middle of the crowded, boisterous bar. A group of women winding their way through the tables paused beside them. “Hi, guys,” said one of them with an “I’m available” smile. She was cute, a California blonde with a tan and big hooters. Nate gave her an “I’m not interested” half-smile. Derek looked her up and down and smiled, too.

“Hi,” he said. Nate scowled at him. The blonde caught the look and they all moved on.

“What the hell?” Nate growled. “You’re married, asshole.”

“I just said hi.” His eyes followed blondie. “She’s cute.”

“You have a fucking gorgeous wife who loves you at home, crying her eyes out.”

“Yeah.” Derek swiveled his gaze back to Nate. “I know.”

“So why’s she crying tonight? You guys were supposed to be talking things over.”

“She wants to adopt a baby.”

“Ah.” Nate sipped his beer, cold, bitter, biting. “There you go. Adoption.”

“No way.” Derek shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want to adopt. Doesn’t work for me.” He gave Nate a condensed version of the discussion, including the artificial insemination option and his reasons for not wanting either of those.

No wonder Krissa was sad.

“You get it, don’t you?” Derek leaned forward, a crease between his dark blond eyebrows.

“You’d rather break your wife’s heart and never have a family than adopt or have artificial insemination.”

“Well…yeah. Hey, her heart’s not broken. She’ll get over it. She always does. Krissa just likes to keep things peaceful.”

Nate studied his buddy. How much did she let Derek get away with? He frowned at his beer.

“How would you feel, man? If it was you.”

Nate’s mind wandered back in time and his stomach rolled over. The past was all tangled up in betrayal and lies and heartache. Trying to put himself in Derek’s shoes was a bad idea.

“I don’t know,” he said with a hitch of a shoulder. He stared at a drop of water on the table. “Doesn’t matter how I’d feel.”

“But if you couldn’t have a baby—would you adopt?” Derek’s eyebrows rose, then lowered again into a frown.

“Sure. Maybe.”

“Bullshit.”

“Lots of people do it. Even people who can have kids adopt. How about a baby from China? I know people who’ve done that.”

“Uh…don’t think so.”

“Why not? It’s a good thing to do.”

“Well, yeah, but…I don’t know. I guess I’m not very good at explaining this.”

“Never mind.” Nate didn’t care. “It’s your decision. Well, yours and Krissa’s.”

“It’s my decision. I’m the one shooting blanks.”

“It’s not just your decision! You two are a couple! What if it was Krissa? What if she couldn’t get pregnant and she wanted to adopt? Then what would you do?” Nate shook his head.

Derek turned his head and gazed across the bar. He tipped his beer glass up and drained it into his mouth, rapped it down on the table. “I’d consider it.”

Nate’s jaw dropped. “What the…? How could that possibly make a difference?”

Derek turned a cool gaze back to Nate. “You don’t get it. I can’t get my wife pregnant. I don’t want the whole world to know that. If we adopt, everyone will know. I’ll be…” he stopped, as if he couldn’t even say the words.

“That’s not right. People don’t think like that.”

“I do.”

And by the firm set of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes, Nate knew that Derek had made his decision and his logic made perfect sense to him, if to no one else.

This tension between them had never been there before. They’d been friends since high school, when they’d met on the school triathlon team. They’d shared a similar athletic talent, similar goals, had competed for the attention the school’s star athlete would get…until the race where Derek had stepped into a hole while running, tripped and sprained his ankle only minutes from the finish. The two of them were far in the lead and Nate could have left him and easily won. But he’d stayed to help his team mate and they’d crossed the finish line together, Nate holding Derek up as he limped along.

Now, things felt different, and Nate couldn’t quite put his finger on it. People change in two years, and he supposed it served him right if his relationship with his friend suffered because he’d disappeared. Derek’s problems made him a different man, no doubt, and—Nate had to be honest—he himself was a different man than the one who had left two years ago.

“You want to talk about being a failure. How about a photographer who can’t see? You wanna see humiliation? What the hell am I going to do, Derek? If I can never take these goddamn glasses off. How about my career?”

Derek’s shoulders dropped. “Fuck. I’m sorry, man. With all this shit going on, I totally forgot.”

Nate gave a mirthless laugh. “Yeah. That’s why I’m sitting here in a dark bar wearing sunglasses. People probably think I’m a cocaine addict.”

He saw the look on Derek’s face.

“I’m not.” He, too, finished his beer.

“I know that. Geez. So, tell me what happened.”

Nate told his pathetic story, about his Costa Rican adventure gone all to hell, ending with a hospital stay and damaged eyes. He hated to sound pathetic, but what the hell. Derek had told him his sad story. Might as well have a big pity party right there at the Shark Club on State Street.