Lovely Trigger(42)

“You’re imagining it.”

I glared. “Tell me if you are or not. Don’t just parrot what I said.”

He tugged at his collar, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “It’s not a big deal. I’d just like for you to see that I can be accommodating and understand that I’m not the guy I was six years ago.”

I sucked in a few deep breaths, my face getting so stiff that it felt like it might crack. “Tristan…”

Our food arrived, and I began to cut into my steak.

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal. Let’s drop it.” He paused. “You should come see my show tonight.”

I chewed on my lips. “No, thank you.” I couldn’t even come up with an excuse.

He took a few bites, looking up to watch me while he chewed.

Finally, he wiped his mouth and asked, “Aren’t you the least bit curious about it?”

I debated for a minute. “I’ve seen it. It’s very good, amazing in fact, but you know that.”

He just blinked at me, and then stared for the longest time. “You really came to see it? That’s unexpected, I have to say. When was it, and where did you sit?”

I stared back. “You ask the oddest questions. What does it matter where I sat?”

“It will tell me what kind of a show you got, and it can be a very different show, depending on where you sit. And the when, well, of course I want to know how long it took for your curiosity to get the best of you.”

“Center stage, three rows back. It was nearly a year ago, just a few months after I moved back into town.”

He studied me for a minute, then went back to eating.

“Those are great seats. I’ll have to put you in the balcony next time, though. That’s a different experience altogether.”

We were nearly finished before either of us spoke again.

“Were you alone?” asked Tristan, a tense thread in his voice.

I took a long drink of water and finished chewing my food. “Excuse me?”

“When you came and saw my act.” He spoke very slowly, tasting the words, as though he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. “Were you alone, when you watched me, three rows back, center stage?”

“No.” I watched him when I said it, felt his flinch with him.

I was familiar with what he was thinking and feeling right then. I’d thought and felt the same, when I’d watched his show, performing parts of it with a woman he’d been sleeping with for years.

“I don’t suppose I should assume that you went with Bev or Frankie, huh?”

Why did it feel like a betrayal, when I looked at it through his eyes? Why did I feel like I needed to explain myself?

Because I’d known, even then, that he’d want me to see him perform, but also, I’d known very well, that he wouldn’t want me to be with another man when I did it.

I suddenly felt just awful about it. Which was so stupid.

The feeling was not rational, but it was powerful. Enough so I felt the need to offer him an excuse.

“He surprised me with tickets. That’s the only reason I went to see you with him.”

His jaw clenched, and he tossed down his napkin, nostrils flared. “And by him, you mean…”

“Yes, Andrew.”

“Don’t. Please, don’t say his name to me.”

That had me bristling. “Tone it down, will you? Don’t ask the question if you don’t want the answer. You haven’t been an angel yourself. In fact, if we’re keeping score, you have a lot more names in your column that I don’t ever want to hear you utter.”

He didn’t say a word, but his eyes screamed at me. This was a hurtful subject, for both of us, and we needed to get way better at avoiding it.

When he finally spoke again, his face was composed, his voice calm. “Well, you need to come see the show again, alone. That’s all there is to it. I’ll snag you a balcony for tonight.”

“How about this? I’ll come see you, but not on a night when you’re performing with anyone that you have f*cked or are f*cking.”

It came out harsh, but that was how I meant it. This was harsh stuff, for both of us. And I was not going to sit through another one of his shows, with f*cking Mona assisting him.

He took a deep breath. “Jesus. I’m not f*cking any of the assistants, if that’s what you mean.”

I set my jaw hard before I could say her name. “Not even Mona?”

He winced, and I had to restrain from shouting out an immature, ‘Ah hah’.

“Not even her.”

Well that was something, but certainly not everything. There was so much wiggle room in ‘not f*cking.’ It could mean he’d only stopped yesterday, for all I knew. “I said, have f*cked, too.”

He looked unhappy. “Okay, I’ll get you set up in the balcony on another day, when she’s not working, but I want to come by your house when I’m done tonight.”

“No.” I didn’t elaborate or offer any excuses.

“We’ll play a round of ‘tell me something.’”

That was tempting, but not quite tempting enough. “God, I almost forgot about that stupid game.” I fought not to smile. “But no.”

“I want to see your house. I want the tour.”