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He raises an eyebrow. “So. It’s true? That you left some poor dude at the altar?”
I set my fork down. “That’s true, partially anyway. I did leave my fiancé at the altar. But that’s not the full story, and there’s noreason to feel sorry for him. Just before I pranced down the aisle, ready to announce my I-do’s to the whole world, his very owntwinsistertold me he was doing his college friend, Jessica, who was sitting only a couple pews away.”
His mouth falls open. “Jesus. That’s fucked up. Why’d you walk down the aisle, then? Why didn’t you split as soon as she told you?”
Good question, one I’ve thought about a million times. The answer is simple.
“Because,hope. When you hear bad news, the first place your brain goes ishope it’s not true.Please don’t let it be true.It can’t possibly be true. You know, that little thing called denial. I didn’t believe her, at least not at first. I didn’t want to.”
“Then how’d you figure out itwastrue?”
I think back to Andy’s glance at Jessica in the church. If he’d just been smart and not looked at her, I’d never have known. He took me for an idiot, and the fool blew his cover.
I’d be married right now, still working in accounting, and living with an unfaithful husband.
“I saw it in his face. That’s how I knew.”
Rake shakes his head and rubs his hand over mine. “Ugh. That sucks. I’m so sorry.”
We look at his hand on mine, and he doesn’t move his until a new photographer sneaks up to the table, blinding us with his flash.
So. Annoying.
“Did Vince set this up? The photographers and stuff?”
Rake waves over the maître d’ and slips a couple bills into his hand. “Help me out, will ya?” he asks, gesturing to the photographer.
In an instant, the man is banished.
“Vince set up the ones in San Francisco, but not this one. This guy’s just garden variety paparazzi. It’s a fact of life for us. Well,when we’re having a winning season. When you’re down, they couldn’t give a shit about you.”
I look at Rake. “Did Vince know we were coming to Vegas?”
A playful look crosses Rake’s face. “No. He has no idea, and boy is he going to be pissed. He likes to control things, especially when it comes to me.”
“I get the feeling you like messing with him.”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t you? He’s a total asshole. I can’t stand him and he can’t stand me because I call him out on it.”
“I could kind of tell.”
Rake finishes his food while I’ve barely started on mine. I hold a hand over my plate. “Don’t be looking at my shrimp, buddy. It’s not my fault you ate your steak so fast.”
He drops his head back and laughs, a loud, deep-throated laugh, the kind that makes everyone else smile too. “You’re good, Miss Parker. You are good.”
Damn right.
“So what’s that necklace you’re wearing?” he asks.
Busted. I always play with it when I’m thinking.
“It’s an initial from one of my dad’s cuff links,” I say. “He died when I was a baby.”
Concern crosses his face. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m fine with it, really. I have no memories of him. You can’t mourn someone you never knew. My mom, who you met, raised me on her own. She comes from an old San Francisco family and was pretty well off, but she worked hard and developed her own vineyards and winery. It pretty much runs itself now, so she spends her days on her charity work. As you’ve seen.”
Rake reaches for the wine bottle in front of him and looks at it. “Shit, we should have ordered some of your mother’s wine. If they have it here.”
