The host talked to the band a bit more and I wandered away, searching. Cary came up to me with Ireland in tow.
“Some video,” he drawled.
I looked at him miserably before my gaze slid over to Ireland. “Do you know where your brother is?”
“Christopher’s schmoozing. Gideon left.” She winced apologetically. “He asked Christopher to take me home with him.”
“Damn it.” I dug in my purse for the burner phone and typed out a quick text: I love you. Tell me you’ll c me 2nite.
I waited for a reply. When it didn’t come after a few minutes, I just held the phone in my hand, willing it to vibrate.
Brett ambled up to me. “We’re done here. Wanna bail?”
“Sure.” I turned to Ireland. “I’m out of town the next two weekends, but let’s get together after that.”
“I’ll keep my schedule open,” she said, hugging me hard.
Turning to Cary, I caught his hand and squeezed it. “Thanks for coming.”
“Are you kidding? I haven’t been this entertained in a long time.” He and Brett did some complicated handshake. “Good job, man. I’m stoked for you.”
“Thanks for coming. We’ll catch you later.”
Brett set his hand at the small of my back and we took off.
17
GIDEON DIDN’T SHOW up at Tableau One.
In a way, I was grateful, because I didn’t want Brett thinking I’d planned the interruption. Outside his long-term hopes for our relationship, Brett was someone who’d been important to me in the past and I wanted to be friends with him, if possible.
But I was preoccupied with imagining what Gideon was thinking and feeling.
I picked at my dinner, too unsettled to eat. When Arnoldo Ricci stopped by to say hello, looking very dashing and handsome in his white chef coat, I felt bad that so much of his fine food was still on my plate.
The celebrity chef was a friend of Gideon’s. Gideon was a silent partner in Tableau One, which was the reason I’d chosen the restaurant. If he had any doubts about how the dinner with Brett would go, he’d have people to ask that he trusted.
Of course, I hoped Gideon would trust me enough to believe me, but I knew our relationship had its issues and our mutual possessiveness was just one of them.
“It’s good to see you, Eva,” Arnoldo said with his lovely Italian accent. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, then pulled out one of the empty chairs at our table and sat.
Arnoldo extended his hand to Brett. “Welcome to Tableau One.”
“Arnoldo’s a Six-Ninths fan,” I explained. “He came to the concert with Gideon and me.”
Brett’s lips twisted ruefully as the two men shook hands. “Nice to meet you. Did you see both shows?”
He was referring to the brawl he’d had with Gideon. Arnoldo understood. “I did. Eva is very important to Gideon.”
“She’s important to me, too,” Brett said, grabbing his frosty mug of Nastro Azzurro beer.
“Well, then.” Arnoldo smiled. “Che vinca il migliore. May the best man win.”
“Ugh.” I sat back in my chair. “I’m not a prize. Or I should say: I’m no prize.”
Arnoldo shot me a look. Obviously he didn’t wholly disagree with me. I didn’t blame him; he knew I’d kissed Brett and had seen the effect it’d had on Gideon.
“Is there a problem with your meal, Eva?” Arnoldo asked. “If you liked it, your plate would be empty.”