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“Fair enough.” I studied the dinner menu.
“That’s it? You invited me to dinner on the premise you had some kind of proposition for me, and because I won’t delve into something that is none of your business, you drop it?”
I set the menu aside. “How long did you know each other before Beau proposed?” I repeated.
“Spider…”
“I told you my history with Winslow.”
“It—she—was part of the investigation.”
“My history with her wasn’t. Especially the part about her refusing my marriage proposal. By the way, tonight is the anniversary of what I thought would be an engagement celebration. Instead, it became my utter humiliation.”
“I’m sorry.” Her hand crept toward mine, but she pulled it away before touching me.
“Don’t be. We all know it was for the best.”
Casper leaned against her chair, perhaps to distance herself from the temptation of comforting me. “You obviously loved her, or you wouldn’t have proposed.”
“I was an immature kid. So was she.” I shrugged. “It’s obvious now she was more interested in a ranch hand than a poor little rich boy.” My words reflected a resentment I didn’t feel. I was happy for Winslow and Cowboy. Particularly since her marriage to him meant my parents and hers would finally back off and stop encouraging me to pursue a renewed relationship with her.
“May I interest you in tonight’s starter offering, freshly caught tuna tartare, or perhaps our signature Kaviari Kristal?” asked the waiter who’d approached our table.
“My father recommended allowing Aleksei to prepare a tasting menu for us tonight,” I suggested to Casper, who hadn’t looked at her menu yet.
When she nodded, the waiter did the same, removed our menus, and left the table.
“I’m not as much like my dad as I appear,” I muttered, realizing I was coming across in the same way he would.
“I haven’t met him to know.”
I scowled. “He’s a pompous ass.”
When Casper laughed, I did too.
“Three weeks,” she said, almost too quietly for me to hear. “We were married a week later.”
I was flooded with humility and reached over to take her hand. She flinched, but I took it anyway. “Thank you for confiding in me.”
She looked down at our hands on the table. “Spider, I don’t want—”
I squeezed her fingers and let go. “A little comfort, Casper. We all need it from time to time.”
“We got married on Christmas. I lost him before our fifth anniversary. Twenty-three days before.” She blinked away tears I knew were unlike her to shed, particularly in front of anyone.
“Christmas sucks.”
Her face broke into a smile. “You can say that again.” Her grin faded. “The Invincibles are having a Christmas party. Attendance is mandatory.”
I knew they were, and it was part of the proposition I wanted to run by her. “Are you going?”
“If you’d asked me that an hour ago, I would’ve said, ‘fuck no.’”
I smiled. Calla hated cursing, when she wasn’t the one doing it. I’d been on the receiving end of her annoyance enough times during the latest investigation to never forget how much it bothered her. “What changed?” I poured more vodka for each of us, and she rested her forearms on the table.
“I started thinking that if it weren’t for them, I never would’ve known how Beau died. Irish Warrick suffered the disdain—maybe hatred is a better word—of everyone in the intelligence community when he went undercover on the mission that ultimately took down the ring of corrupt men responsible not just for Beau’s death but countless others. I owe him. We all do.”
“You’d consider going, out of respect for him?”
