Under the Table(43)
“Excellent idea.” He bolted out of the kitchen. A minute later, chamber music started playing through the speakers above her. Classy. She sliced an onion she didn’t need in half and began to chop it, looking forward to the watery eyes it might produce.
“How do I look?” he asked when he came back into the kitchen, checking the clock again.
Gorgeous, she thought, checking out the new power suit he was wearing. Something he had bought himself. He had also gotten a haircut, shorter on the sides and longer on top with a healthy waving that flipped to the side. It looked smashing. He no longer needed her, which she should be viewing as a blessing. After this was over, he was on his own. She meant it this time. She had to stop being a glutton for punishment. It only added to the heartbreak.
“Perfect,” she said. It was gruffer than she intended.
“Any last-minute advice?” Tristan asked.
There were so many things she wanted to tell him. At the top of that list was screaming “Pick me! Can’t you see how I feel about you?” The next would be to tell him that this whole affair was doomed to fail, which should’ve brought her more joy. Guilt always made for a good motivator. She stopped working and studied him.
“People’s favorite topic is usually themselves. If you feel yourself slipping, just encourage her to talk about what interests her. It’ll keep the conversation flowing. And don’t worry about not knowing what she’s talking about, just ask her to explain, only look fascinated when you do it. I’ve been with people who I didn’t get a word in edgewise with all night. If you’re a good listener, it has the added bonus of learning a lot about a person.”
“Keep her talking about herself,” Tristan repeated. “Got it.”
All conversation stopped when the doorbell rang.
“It’s showtime.” He stole her phrase while pulling at his jacket and double-checking his tie.
“Good luck,” she told him. After he left she added, “I think you’re going to need it.”
Zoey moved about the kitchen as quietly as she could and decided that no matter how this scheme played out, this was the last time she was going to see Tristan Malloy. She had the best of intentions and made her mistakes, but she no longer had the strength or desire to watch him find his happily ever after. Even sadder, if the evening played out the way he wanted it to, he wouldn’t miss her. He’d be on his way to new adventures.
As soon as she was done putting the finishing touches on the salads, he came through the door adjacent to the dining room to retrieve them.
“Things are going great,” he whispered, way too close to her ear, his breath tickling the back of her neck. “Your advice was stellar.”
He grabbed the salad plates and left before she could respond, careful to not let the door swing open too wide.
He didn’t want soup, and she knew why. It’s a course that could get sloppy. Zoey sulked. There would be no napkin bibs making an appearance this evening. It was becoming more and more apparent that he wanted her there only for moral support. An interesting turn of phrase, since morals obviously weren’t on tonight’s menu.
Tristan snuck back through the door with the empty salad plates a half hour later.
“We have a few seconds.” He still was whispering. “She went to the ladies’ room.”
Zoey hastily started to plate the main course. “Then here, let’s get this on the table and you can meet her in the living room when she comes out.”
“It’s going so well.” Tristan beamed while reaching into his pocket and pulling out several one-hundred-dollar bills. “I can’t thank you enough. Being in my own space makes it so much easier.”
“Home field advantage, right?” she muttered, reaching for the money he held out to her.
“Listen, I think I can handle dessert on my own,” he said, and Zoey felt like she had fallen on her own knife.
“As soon as you two are back in the dining room, I’ll just slip out the door.” All pretense of them being in some grand conspiracy together had vanished. She had been paid for services she hadn’t rendered and that was fine by Zoey. He could clean up his kitchen on his own. She just had to hold it together for a few more minutes and she would be free of this whole surreptitious affair. And him.
She garnished the plates with parsley and he dashed out to the dining room.
“Just wanted to see if I could lend a hand.”
Zoey whirled around and was face-to-face with Kristin, who had decided to take a detour back from the bathroom through the kitchen. Kristin’s expression was one of mild surprise. When Tristan burst through the door to the kitchen, his was more akin to horror. Zoey, in the middle, looked from one to the other, feeling the heat rush of embarrassment.
“Kristin!” Tristan exclaimed, cemented where he stood. “I’d like to introduce you to Zoey.”
Zoey turned back to Kristin with a feeble “Hi.”
Kristin approached Zoey, extending a delicate hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Zoey. I can see you have everything under control in here.”
“I was just finishing up. And getting ready to leave.” Zoey tried to sound light and breezy as she shook Kristin’s hand with her now-clammy one. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Well then, don’t let me get in your way. Dinner smells delicious. Tristan, I’ll wait for you in the dining room.” Kristin passed by both of them, and through the dining room door.