Chapter 18 And the Lies We Tell
AND THE LIES WE TELL
It had been a few days since my lunch with Tristan.
I still didn’t know what to do about us.
Friends? Tristan Anderson as my friend, not my boyfriend or the guy I lost my virginity to.
That would be an interesting dinner conversation when his new girlfriend asked, So, how do you two know each other?
Oh, funny story, I used to give him blow jobs in my shower when I was fifteen.
I’m sure lots of people’s friendships started out like that. Not to mention how the hell I would handle seeing him with someone else. Being okay with the fact he could love another while I filled my life with men like Ian.
“I’m excited about this place. I hear the chef trained in the back alleys of Italy and in the poorest areas of Asia. His food is a fusion of his Middle Eastern heritage and all his travels.”
Ian dragged me back to the conversation. “Sounds great.” I watched the city through the passenger window. It was a blur of light and raindrops. I shouldn’t compare Tristan and Ian. They were so different, and it was more than looks.
Ian loved MPR and reading the newspaper on weekends. Ian had a great relationship with his parents. He hadn’t struggled to pay for college or find his first job. I thought those things were endearing. But they were driving a wedge further between us. And now Tristan was standing in the divide.
“So, um, just a heads-up. Olivia is bringing a date. I’m not sure what kind.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Olivia was Ian’s twin. She was the only member of Ian’s family I had met, only because she had demanded it.
“Nothing. I didn’t want to spring it on you.” Ian put the car in park.
“I don’t care who your sister dates as long as he or she is above the age of eighteen and is mentally able to consent. I’m sorry if your family isn’t more accepting of that.”
Ian pulled back a bit. “Okay, Evan, leave work at work. I don’t care who my sister dates either. I’m giving you a heads-up because I didn’t tell you. I only found out two hours ago.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This shit with Tristan was bleeding too much into my life. Ian had done nothing wrong other than being aware of my feelings. That was what a good partner did. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Work has been nuts.” I smiled weakly at him.
“I get it. I have a huge audit coming up. January and February are going to be crazy.”
“Yeah, just like that.” It was nothing like that. The valet opened the door. I stepped out, and my heart stopped. I knew the awning. It was the same restaurant I met Tristan at. “This place?” It came out wrong.
“Yeah, you’ve heard of it?” Ian put his hand on the small of my back and ushered me in.
Mara was standing at the hostess stand. My head spun with a dizziness that made me stumble in my heels.
“Are you okay?” Ian steadied me.
“Yeah. Sorry.” I tried not to look at Mara.
“Ian Erickson, party of four.” Ian stepped closer to the stand.
“Of course, Mr. Erickson. Mrs. Erickson?” She looked at me.
“Oh, she’s not my wife.” Ian laughed.
“My apologies.” She nodded. “This way.”
Fuck. I should explain. Tell her Tristan knew I was seeing someone. I told him. So I wasn’t hiding anything. Of course she led us over to the same table that Tristan and I had sat at.
“Your waiter Mica will be with you in a moment. Enjoy.” She brushed by me.
“You know her?” Ian asked, sitting down.
“I don’t think so.” The restaurant looked different in the low light of the evening. It was warm and the rich smells of food filled the air. The river was a black slash through the golden lights of the houses that surrounded it.
“I hear the view during brunch is the best.”
“It is.” I bit my lip when he looked up at me. “I mean, we used to grab lunch down by the river in college.” Ian hadn’t gone to college down here, so he had no idea what I would’ve seen or not seen.
“Hello,” Mica said, setting a bottle of water on the table. “Are we waiting for two more?”
“Yes. My sister and her date. But can we start with a bottle of wine?”
“Of course.” Mica pulled the wine list out from the stack of menus Mara had left.
I agreed to whatever wine Ian wanted. Mica left, and there we sat.
Neither saying anything. That wasn’t unusual for us.
Ian usually carried more of the conversations because he struggled to understand my job.
His brain understood things like numbers and clear answers.
He lived in the very black-and-white world of right and wrong.
While I lived and worked in all the shades of gray and understood that sometimes people did the wrong things for the right reasons.
Ian was a doer while I was a listener. So, I listened to him talk about his clients or the state of the world.
“You never did tell me how your thing went last week,” Ian said, unfolding his napkin.
“My thing?” I cocked my head, trying to remember what thing. I doubted he wanted to hear about my lunch with my ex-boyfriend. “Callie’s birthday? Fine. We ended up back at the apartment. The bar was packed with twenty-somethings. It was loud.”
“Which bar?” Ian asked, pouring us both water.
“Um… Fifty-Two West.” I smiled at Mica, who came back with the wine, presenting it to Ian, then to me. “Yes, that’s fine.” I waved off the bottle.
Ian swirled a small amount of the red liquid. He sniffed it and sipped. Ian and his family used to spend weeks in France and Italy. They learned all about wine and the art of drinking it. I didn’t care what notes came forward. I didn’t know why it bothered me that Ian did.
“Ian. It’s wine.” I held my glass for Mica to pour me some.
“Did you want a sample?” Mica asked.
“No. It’s wine.” That and I had already tried it because it was the same wine Craig had brought out for my lunch with Tristan.
I would not be ordering the steak. Thankfully, Olivia and her date were led over to the table.
Her date was a man. They sat down, and Olivia did the same with the wine.
Her date shifted in his chair, looking at me. I shrugged and took a drink.
We made small talk over the appetizer. Olivia filled Ian in on her recent trip to Costa Rica.
Olivia worked as a consultant for companies looking to do business in South and Central America.
She spoke three languages and had a nose ring and a couple tattoos.
She and Ian were nothing alike. Ian loved routine, while Olivia seemed to thrive on chaos.
They had some of the same features—blue eyes, blonde hair—but for some reason, it all looked better on Olivia.
Because those same features on Ian made him look delicate and breakable.
Not like Tristan, whose sharp edges made him look dangerous. Masculine.
“And you, Finn. Where did you say you worked?” Ian asked between bites of salad.
“Fifty-Two West.”
I choked on my wine. Ian patted my back. What the fuck was happening? So help me god, if he said that his best friend Tristan knew the chef here, I was going to lose my shit.
“Isn’t that the bar you and Callie were at?” Ian asked.
“Yeah. Small world.” I wiped the wine from my chin.
Finn would fit in with the rest of the crew.
He was model attractive. Great jaw, a mop of blond hair pulled back, tattoos and piercings.
He was thinner and shorter than Tristan.
I shook away my thoughts. Tristan wasn’t who I should be thinking about.
“What do you do there?” Ian asked.
“Ian, don’t,” Olivia warned.
“What? MPR did a story about the owners. They hire ex-cons and those that need a second chance. It was very interesting. It’s a risky business plan, but I applaud their efforts.”
“Oh god.” Olivia covered her face. “Ian, seriously?”
Finn sat back examining Ian. “Yeah, Cory and Stacy, the owners, do hire people who have had a rough run. But”—he looked at Ian—“they also hire those of us that don’t have a criminal record and have a college education. Which I have. Don’t let the tattoos fool you. And Spain has better red wine.”
I bit back my smile. Ian didn’t mean anything by it. But he often stuck his foot in his mouth. Saying the first things that came to his mind.
“So there.” Olivia smirked. “Mr. Know It All.”
Okay, that was too much. “Olivia, Ian meant nothing by that. He was simply telling you what he heard.” Ian squeezed my knee.
Olivia was a few minutes older than Ian, and she liked to pick on him.
As adults, they didn’t seem to have that twin thing some talked about.
But then again, I never spent much time with them together.
“No one was questioning your integrity, Finn.”
The food came, and conversation went back to safer topics.
“When were you at Fifty-Two?” Olivia asked.
Little bitch had to keep bringing that up. “Um, last Saturday, I think. It was my friend’s thirtieth.” I looked at Finn. I didn’t remember if he was working that night. Hell, he could have been standing right next to me, and I wouldn’t have noticed. My head was elsewhere.
“Yeah, that was the night I called out. Tris covered for me.”
Fuck me running. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course he knew Tristan. Please change the subject. Please. I closed my eyes, saying a prayer.
“How is everything?”
Craig’s voice cut through my prayers. Not that fucking way. I cursed the universe. I opened my eyes to see the tall chef standing by our table.
“The Evan?” He cocked his head. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”
Everyone at the table turned to look at me. I was never leaving the house again. Ever. I was in a city of almost four million people, and they all fucking knew Tristan Anderson. “Craig.” I swallowed. Please don’t ask me why I’m here with these people. Please don’t mention Tristan. Please.
“You two know each other?” Ian asked.
Craig smiled. “Yeah, she liked my knife collection.”
I covered my face and groaned. Why?
“What?” Ian asked.
“We both went to the U,” Craig said. “I took a couple psych classes for my generals. We bonded over my best friend. He also graduated from Parkfield.”
Olivia looked to me. Ian said nothing to clear up the confusion.
“I’m originally from Parkfield.” I was surprised how much Craig knew about me.
“What a small world! Who’s your friend, the one you graduated with?” Olivia asked, looking over at me like she knew. Like she could read the guilt on my face.
“Aaron.” I blurted out the first name I could think of. “But I don’t think he graduated with me. He, uh… had better things to do.” I looked at Craig, wondering if he could read the hurt on my face. How the fuck did Tristan know more people in my circle than I did?
“Right.” Craig smiled. “He did a lot of stupid things in those days. But he’s changed. A lot. So how was your meal? The beef comes from a small farm…”
I needed to do something with whatever Tristan and I were, and quickly, before I hurt those around me.