Tuesday, October 17th, 7:32 PM

Grayson sat across from Nate at The Capital Grille, the same corner booth they'd occupied last week. The restaurant felt comforting, but tonight everything seemed to grate on his nerves. How could he tell Red if she didn't even speak to him?

"You look like hell," Nate observed, setting down his scotch.

"Thanks." Grayson's voice was flat. "After Morgan dropped her little bomb, I haven't been sleeping well."

"I'm sorry, mate." Nate leaned back. "Is that the ...