“One Last Word for you,” she declares.
Amy gestures to the waitress. “Add it to my tab.”
The waitress leaves, and I pick up the glass.
“Why does it scare you?” Amy asks, returning to the question.
The question I need to figure out how to answer. “For so many reasons,” I say, then I take a drink.
I don’t want to list them all, because the list would occupy a sheet of paper so long it’d scroll out the door.
I knock back some of the beverage, savoring the clean, neat taste of the gin, then I turn the conversation in another direction. “The blog is working. Business has been picking up more than I could hope after only a few days,” I say, rapping my knuckles on the metal table in front of me.
“That’s great,” Lola says with a smile.
I prattle on about the slight uptick in traffic to the store, and the comments on the blog itself, which is quickly picking up speed. “It’s great to see the strategy working. Tristan said I should put more of myself into the blog, and that customers would connect with that.”
Amy’s eyebrows rise above her glasses. “I don’t think your customers are the only ones connecting to the blog.”
“I think he is too,” Lola adds.
My brow creases. “Did he say something to you?”
Lola laughs, shaking her head. “He doesn’t have to, Peyton. I’ve seen the way you two are together. How he makes you laugh, and how he pokes fun at you in the most deadpan way. And how you give it right back to him.”
“Because we’re friends. We always have been,” I say.
“Right. That’s true. But you weren’t exactly hanging out with him all the time when you were with Gage.”
“And that’s why I’m glad that we can hang out again now. Like we did in college, and after college.”
Lola takes a deep breath, as if she’s steeling herself to say something hard. “I’m not trying to side with Captain Infidelity . . .” My shoulders tighten. I can hear the edge in her voice, the slice of tough love she’s about to serve up. “But do you think maybe Gage was onto something when he didn’t want you to spend time with Tristan?”
My jaw ticks. “I was faithful to Gage. I’ve been faithful to everyone I’ve been with. I would never cheat.”
Lola squeezes my knee, but I shrink away.
She’s insistent though. “Peyton, I know that.”
“We know that,” Amy adds. “You’re a faithful person.”
“I am,” I insist. But why so strongly? It’s nothing but the truth. “I was faithful mentally, emotionally, and physically in every way to everyone I’ve ever been with.”
“Of course you were. But you’re also an honest person, and Gage knew you’d kissed Tristan. You told him about the kiss,” Amy says.
“Yes, because otherwise I would have been keeping it a secret, and there was no reason for it to be a secret. I was honest with him about everything. Telling Gage I kissed Tristan was the right thing to do.”
“Yes, it was. It absolutely was. And Gage is a total asshat,” Lola says. “But he’s also a human who was probably more jealous than he ever let on. So even if you weren’t thinking of Tristan as boyfriend material when you were with Gage, you were certainly thinking of him that way once upon a time, weren’t you? It wasn’t just a random kiss in college, was it?”
I drop my head in my hands, the past crawling over me, digging its heel into my back.
Memories of college, of the times Tristan and I spent together before the dance, flicker in my mind. After he finished work, we’d meet for late-night study sessions for our history class, or we’d share notes for Spanish. On weekends, we’d go to the on-campus diner for milkshakes and fries, then salads the next day because we felt guilty about the fries. Sometimes we went out with our group of friends, and sometimes it was just us. He told me stories about teaching his brother how to make a pizza from scratch then showed me pictures of a young Barrett covered in tomato sauce and flour.
We played blackjack and made up new rules, and we read articles in The Onion out loud to each other in the snack bar, each doing our best to make the other laugh like a hyena.
We were friends.
Except for that one night.
I’d wanted more than that one night. I thought about him all through winter break, wondering, wanting.
Was he the one for me?
After his father passed away, we returned so seamlessly to friendship that it was as if the kiss had never happened. We never spoke of it. He gave no sign he wanted anything more.
But maybe Gage was right to be jealous of Tristan. Maybe it’s normal to be jealous of any man your girlfriend has kissed.
I look up, seeing the patience in Amy’s and Lola’s eyes, pure friendship in their expressions.
“Yes, once upon a time, I wanted more,” I admit.
A weight lifts from my shoulders.
But only for a moment. Then it crashes down heavier than before, a looming reminder of the risks.
Because that was in the past, and this is the present. “But there’s too much at stake now,” I continue. “And sometimes, chances slip by for a reason. I think we were meant to be friends. With friendship, I can’t lose him. A quick romp, a one-night fling—those are too risky. Relationships can go up in flames. Look what happened to me.”
I waggle my naked ring finger. “Three years with Gage and what do I have? Ten grand I poured into my store, and that’s all well and good. But I loved him, and he hurt me. I care so deeply for Tristan that the thought of losing him makes me physically ill.” I wrap my arms around my belly. “If I even tried to pursue something, acting on whatever this . . .” I gesture wildly, searching for words. “This vibe is, then what if it goes belly-up? What if it turns into the next bare ring finger?”
“He’s not like Gage,” Amy points out.
“But that’s not even the issue,” I add.
“I know,” she says quietly. “You’re not worried he’d cheat. You’re worried you’d ruin the friendship if you let anything happen.”
“Yes, because relationships are risky, but friendships are solid. Look at us now. We wouldn’t be friends if we’d fallen into bed ten years ago. I need him in my life too much.”
Amy raises her glass and says, “Let’s drink to friendship.”
Lola chimes in. “Friendship makes the world go round.”
“Exactly. I don’t want to lose you ladies ever, and I feel the same about Tristan. If I’m not going to sleep with you, I’m not going to sleep with him.”
That decision felt right and solid when I said it to my girls. It’s harder to remember when Tristan knocks on my door the next night.
19
Tristan
I spend the morning at the restaurant, managing inventory, paying bills, talking to suppliers.
My sous chef and I devise the specials, and I make small plates during lunch hour. When the rush dies down, I shift back to the office, finish some paperwork, and then pack up for the day, since my sous and the staff and crew can handle the night crowd.