“Player stuff?” I asked.
“She didn’t mean player—Autumn, did you?” Hollie asked.
“Sorry, no. Tristan is just always super flirtatious. Like, I think it’s almost an addiction or some kind of game to him. He likes female attention and he’s very good at . . . getting women to fawn over him.”
Fawn over him? Is that what they thought I was doing? I took a breath. I wasn’t sure why I was in the middle of this conversation, but it didn’t feel good. Tristan and I hadn’t known each other long, but it felt like I knew who he was. I didn’t want two near-perfect strangers telling me something about my husband that I didn’t already know. I needed to be able to trust that the man I saw was the man he was. I’d had enough men pretending to be people they weren’t to last me a lifetime.
“Autumn, you’re making him sound like an asshole. And he’s not. He’s just flirtatious and he’s never seemed particularly set on being a one-woman guy—”
I jumped to my feet, too uncomfortable to stay seated. “I think I’d like to see Gabriel’s workshop after all.”
“Oh God!” Autumn said and she rushed to the door. “Tristan! Come back here. I’ve upset Parker.”
I tried to take some deep breaths. I was sure Autumn and Hollie were trying to be kind by pointing out how my relationship with Tristan was different from any he’d had before, but characterizing him as a flirtatious player wasn’t the way to do it.
Tristan appeared in the doorway. “I was gone two minutes. What did you two do?”
“I called you a player,” Autumn said. “I was trying to say you’re different with Parker, but it came out . . . sideways.”
“It’s fine,” I said. I just wanted everyone to stop talking.
“And I was trying to say how nice it is to see you reformed,” Hollie said.
“Fucking hell, you two. Bloody Americans. I want to talk to Parker, privately.”
“No,” I said. “I’m fine.” I didn’t want to blow this up into some big drama.
“I’m so sorry.” An alarm started ringing in the kitchen and Autumn ran past us both. “Shit, it’s the chicken. Gabriel,” she called out, “your dinner is burning!”
“Is this too much for you?” he asked. “It’s not like this with Stella. She’s less . . . boisterous. We should have gone to dinner at Beck’s place.”
“They’re in Barbados,” Gabriel said, striding out of his workshop. “You’re stuck with us. Come eat some burnt chicken and we can unpick whatever Autumn has done.” He guided us to the dining room and I let him, despite the fact that I had my metaphorical running shoes half laced up.
Tristan sat on the shiny oak bench and I slid in next to him. I felt like we were about to embark on group therapy, but I just wanted to forget everything. Autumn and Gabriel piled dish upon dish upon dish on the table, handed out plates, and everyone began to help themselves.
“Okay,” Tristan said. “So what exactly did you say, Autumn? Let’s deal with this.”
Autumn and Hollie were like a double act, relaying what they had said to me in the living room. “It was meant to be a compliment,” Autumn said.
Tristan shook his head. “I’m a pretty laid-back guy. I don’t mind being roasted by you lot. I can take your jabs and your jokes.”
“Yes,” Hollie said. “You’re lovely.”
Tristan ignored her and continued. “But there are some things that I’m not laid back about. I’m not laid back about work. I’m not laid back about anyone who hurts my family. And I’m not laid back about people weighing in on Parker and me.”
My stomach somersaulted at the idea that I was some kind of exception in Tristan’s life.
“We weren’t trying to hurt her, Tristan,” Hollie said.
“Honestly we weren’t,” Autumn added.
“I know you meant well. You both have good hearts, but despite the fact that we’re married, Parker and I are still getting to know each other.” Tristan was calm but firm in his tone.
He squeezed my leg. “I’ve always been a flirt. I’ve always liked women. That’s not to say I was shagging everything in London.”
It felt like the entire table was watching for my reaction. I wanted to slide off the bench and under the table. “I flirt,” Tristan continued. “Or I used to. I was single a long time before you.”
I nodded. He never talked about a serious girlfriend, so what he was telling me shouldn’t be news. He was hot and solvent—no doubt he had ninety percent of the single straight women of London panting for his attention. “Okay,” I said. “It’s fine.”
“By getting married like we have, we’ve lied to a lot of people. But I’ve not lied to you. I promise.”
“I’m sorry,” Autumn said. “Tristan is a lovely, lovely man who takes more than his fair share of shit from these guys.” She pointed at Gabriel and Dexter. “We’re just so happy that he’s found someone who makes him so happy.”