Page 113 of The Encore’s Crown

Radhika touches his forearm. “I’ll only be a moment.”

There’s something gentle in the way she says it. Reassurance, maybe. The kind she used to give me without being asked because she always knew what I was trying not to admit. The man bends and kisses her cheek. It isn’t a casual kiss. It lingers just long enough to establish a point, his hand remaining at her waist while his eyes stay fixed on me.

Message received.

I look away first. She says something to the woman beside her, then turns toward us.

“Ten minutes.”

Rithy grins.

We return to the booth with Radhika between Rithy and Ronan. I follow several steps behind, which feels appropriate. She slides into the curved seat beside Rithy. Ronan takes the other side before I can even consider where she might sit. Rafe drops into his previous place. That leaves me across from her. Great. A waiter appears and Rithy orders champagne without asking.

“I’m drinking whiskey,” Radhika says.

Four heads turn toward her.

She lifts one shoulder. “What? People change.”

“Not that much,” Rithy says. “You always hated whiskey.”

“I learned.”

Her gaze moves briefly to the bottle already on our table. Then to me. A memory rises behind my eyes, and I’m almost certain I see it in hers too. Or maybe I’m only imagining that. Expensive scotch in hotel glasses. Her bare feet tucked beneath her. Her body pressed against mine, my arm wrapped around her. The first time she took a reckless swig, coughed into my chest, then insisted she liked it while her eyes watered. Her expression closes again.

Rithy pours for her.

“To ghosts,” Ronan says.

Radhika’s mouth curves as she lifts the glass. “Some of us look remarkably good for dead people.”

We drink. For the next several minutes, everyone speaks at once. Rafe asks about her latest film. Ronan wants to know whether a rumor involving a director, a tiger, and an overturned golf cart is true. Rithy demands to know why she never answered his message after an awards show six years ago.

“You sent me one word,” she says.

“It was an important word.”

“Betrayal?”

“You promoted the film after they got Riley fucking Thorne to sing the title track. Riley. Asshole. Thorne. I told you what that motherfucker did at our first festival. Wicked Smile was headlining, we played right before them, and the second he walked onstage, he goes, ‘Thank God that’s over. That guitarist sucked. Now, are you ready for the good shit?’ And you still promoted a movie with his song all over it? Radhi, really?”

Radhika stares at him. “You’re a grown man.”

“That’s never been confirmed.”

She laughs.

With them, she becomes herself in pieces. Her shoulders loosen. She leans into Rithy when he shows her something on his phone. She covers her mouth when Ronan describes an incident involving a malfunctioning smoke cannon and a hotel fire alarm. She listens while Rafe tells her about Kasia, interrupting only to ask questions that make his entire face transform.

“What does she do?”

“She’s a doctor.”

Radhika’s eyebrows rise. “A doctor?”

“An incredible one.”

“You sound disgustingly proud.”