Crash Into Me(70)

It was a comfortable existence, even if it wasn't the type of life many women would like. I understood not to ask questions about certain things, and I didn't. It was a trade off I was willing to make.

The summer night air grew chillier, signaling autumn's coming in upstate New York. It had been a long, hot summer and I welcomed the change fall would bring. As the leaves began to slowly turn the vibrant golds and reds so typical of the trees in the Northeast, Tristan announced at dinner one evening that we would be leaving to see another suite. It had been over a month since he and I had traveled to San Francisco on what had ended up feeling like the trip of a lifetime, so I couldn't imagine what could top that.

"We'll be gone for at least a week, so be sure to tell Jordan," he said casually as he poured himself a drink.

I couldn't help but smile. "I think it's really great that you don't want me to forget about her."

"Why would I? She's your friend. Plus, I owe her. If it wasn't for her information, I wouldn't have been able to surprise you that night."

How long ago that night seemed now. Then we'd been basically strangers, learning those first things about one another. Now, just months later, we were like an old married couple eating dinner each night at five, laying in bed late on Sunday mornings, and bickering about which movie to watch on Saturday nights.

I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his back. "Where are we going?"

Covering my hands with his, he turned his head to face me. "Venice."

I moved around him and stood looking up in amazement. "Venice? As in canals, gondola rides, and the Doge's Palace?"

"Yes, yes, and I have no idea."

"I can't believe it. And how can you have no idea what the Doge's Palace is?"

"Just wait until you see it, Nina. The hotel is on the Grand Canal, and although I can't say most of my hotels do much for me, the one in Venice is an exception."

"What am I going to be able to add to one of your suites in Venice?" I asked, feeling immediately incapable to do anything to improve anything in that great city.

He lifted my chin to make me face him. "Don't doubt yourself. I believe in you."

That was easy for him to say. He didn't have to pick art to improve on one of the most artistically beautiful cities in the world. "Is this some sort of final exam or something? My six months are almost up, so is this the big test to see if I can keep my job?"

Tristan winced ever so slightly at the mention of my contract. "No. Think of this as merely a vacation."

"A working vacation," I corrected him. "Will we be able to visit some of the museums?"

"Of course."

Just as I began to chatter on about all the great museums in Venice, his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket, and as he seemed to do more and more, he apologized for having to take the call and left the dining room. Of all the changes that had occurred over the past months, this one I disliked. Ever since that night in Dallas, it seemed like his phone was always interrupting our time together. It rang almost constantly, and at least once a day, he left to speak to someone, even though with me he claimed that after five was a time he wanted nothing to do with work. I didn't know if he answered only one person's call or if he allowed himself one call each night, but whether it was during dinner, as we relaxed, or just as we fell asleep, he took that one call, always leaving before he answered it.

At first I'd been suspicious and worried that it was another woman, but each night he returned to the house and me and rarely left. Even when he went out to attend some work function, he told me where the event was to be held and which actress he was escorting that night, even joking about his stiffness and being a bad fake boyfriend. And every morning after, I saw him and the girl du jour on Page Six, with Tristan as uncomfortable and rigid as always at just the place he'd said he'd be.