I was too busy to dwell on this mystery woman, however, and too proud to admit that I cared. I took their order like I didn’t even know him. Other than shooting me an intense look, he didn’t acknowledge me, either, or attempt to introduce me to her. The evening passed in a blur, helped along by the tequila. I was back and forth to Connor’s table in between serving other customers. Before I knew it, two hours had passed, and he was alone. I brought him the check, and he handed me one of those Amex black cards. Titanium, cool to the touch. I’d never seen one before. They were like an urban legend. No credit limit, and you couldn’t apply for one. Amex had to decide you were worthy.
“Is this for real? I thought only, like, Beyoncé and Saudi princes had these.”
“It’s real.”
“I didn’t think you had room to come up in the world, Connor Ford, but I was wrong.”
He gave a harsh laugh.
When I came back ten minutes later with the slip for him to sign, the woman hadn’t reappeared.
“What happened to your girlfriend?”
A worried look came into his eyes. “Not a girlfriend. Just a business associate.”
“Guess I won’t sell her picture to the tabloids, then.”
My tone was light enough to convey that I was just razzing him. But Connor didn’t get the joke. He went deathly pale and grabbed my wrist.
“Tell me you didn’t take any photos tonight.”
“Hey.”
I jerked my hand away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but this is important.”
“I was teasing, because you’re famous now. It was a joke, okay? Jeez.”
I rubbed my wrist.
“You don’t understand. I’m under a lot of pressure. If you took a photo—”
“I said I didn’t.”
“Can you just—I know this sounds crazy, but can I see your phone? Just to check.”
“Seriously?”
He stared back at me, looking almost ill. He wasn’t joking.
“Fine. Here. Go through my photos if that’ll make you feel better.”
I took my phone from my pocket and opened my photos. Connor grabbed the phone from my hand and scrolled frantically. After a minute, he breathed out, handing the phone back to me.
“Okay?” I said.
“Thank you. I’m sorry to be such a jackass. If you knew my situation—”
“I get it. You have people taking advantage of you on a daily basis. You and I haven’t seen each other in years, so for all you know, I could be the type who’d make a buck selling your picture. I’m not. Please, accept my apology, and allow me to comp your drinks.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.”
“No, Tabby, really. I’m sorry, I overreacted. I don’t want it to be like that between us.”
“Like what?”
“Like we’re strangers. A waitress and a customer.”
He was looking at me with those eyes, and I felt their power. I needed to put a stop to this before he broke my heart all over again. Given the presence of the attractive brunette, he was probably already cheating. A player, despite his protestations.
“Listen, it was nice seeing you. I’ll get out of your hair now. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“Wait. No.”
He sounded almost desperate.
“Let me make it up to you. Buy you a drink?”
“I’m working.”
“Afterwards, then.”
“It’s dead around the lake at night. By the time I get off work, everything will be closed.”
“I know somewhere we can go, just to talk. Please, give me a chance to redeem myself. It’s a gift to run into you out of the blue. I can’t let it end with me blowing it like this.”
His eyes were pleading. It was unnerving how upset he’d gotten over a dumb joke. But on the other hand, he was Connor, and he was right. It was a miracle, running into each other after all these years. In a sense, the damage was already done. He’d wormed his way into my head, my heart, all over again. If I passed up the chance to have a drink with him, I’d regret it.
Besides, it was just a drink. Right?
“Please, Tabby,” he said.
Nobody else ever called me that, before or since. I looked into his eyes. I put my hand momentarily on his shoulder. I didn’t have the willpower to refuse.
“Just one drink?” I said.
“If that’s all you have time for.”
“Okay. I get off at eleven.”
His smile lit the room.
“I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done.”
7
I finished my shift at eleven and stepped out into the darkness of the parking lot. The only cars that remained belonged to me and my coworkers. No Connor.
Disappointment hit me like a slap. That’s how messed up I was over him already. I should be glad that he’d decided not to show. After all, what good could possibly come of us having a drink together? Fighting tears, and mad at myself for it, I got out my keys and headed for my old Toyota. Just as I pointed the key fob at the door, that black sports car came roaring into the lot and screeched to a halt beside me. Connor lowered the window.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I was worried you’d be gone.”
I didn’t ask where he’d been, since that was none of my business. He leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. The sports car was sleek and sinuous and low to the ground, like something Tom Cruise would drive in a spy movie. I looked back at my old rust-bucket, then over at his car, and thought, What’s wrong with this picture. What did he want with me after all these years? He was married to a famous beauty, a woman who traveled on helicopters and yachts, draped in diamonds. Was it because I’d seen him with that brunette? Maybe he wasn’t satisfied that I’d been joking? Maybe he was even upset. The thought made me uneasy.
“Should we just talk here?” I said.
“In the parking lot? That’s not a good idea. I’m staying at a friend’s ski house. It’s a ten-minute drive from here, with a great view. He stocks the best liquor. We can talk without worrying about who’s watching.”
Right. He was famous, and married, and I’d already rattled him by joking about selling a picture. He didn’t need paparazzi photographing him with a woman. Not just the woman from the restaurant. Any woman. Me.
“It would mean so much to me to catch up. Please, Tabby?”
He leaned on the please so winningly. That dazzling grin, that honeyed voice, the square jaw, the beautiful eyes. I knew this was bad for me. But if I could spend an hour with him, just talking, catching up, I’d have memories that would last for years. I nodded, and Connor pushed open the passenger door.
Sinking into the fragrant leather seat, I gawked at the intricate instrument panel and the lovely grain of the wood on the dashboard.
“This car is awesome. What is it?”
“Lamborghini. A gift from my wife,” he said, and his voice tightened when he mentioned her.
“I hope you wrote a nice thank-you note,” I said.
He hit the gas, and the car leaped forward. We zoomed out of the lot onto the road that led away from the lake, racing past the old country club, the defunct golf course, the ski resort with its lodge and lifts shuttered for the off-season. Everything was closed, deserted, locked up tight. He turned onto the narrow road that wound up Baldwin Mountain.