He kept trying to tell himself it was better this way. And, maybe in time he’d believe that.
Teresa and Quinn were on hand to make sure everything with the event was perfect. And every time he looked at Quinn, he ached for Olivia.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Mia appeared at his side. Leave it to his little sister to sneak up on him.
“No thanks.”
“Did you find out she’s a serial killer?”
He cut a look at his sister. He didn’t even wonder where Mia heard. He knew it had gone straight from Eden to Mia. “Shut up.”
“Can we play the cold-hot game? It will go a lot faster.”
“Go away.”
“All right, fine. Lets do one blink for yes, two for no.”
Tate sighed and took his first sip of whiskey. A thousand fiery needles pricked his mouth then followed the liquid down his throat, leaving a searing path.
Oh yeah. That felt good.
“She cheated on you,” Mia said.
“Mia.” Tate gave her the look his teammates swore could peel paint. Evidently, Mia had seen it too many times in her life. Because she laughed.
“I figured I should go for the obvious first. Since that’s out, I’ll go in decreasing order of most deplorable characteristics. Is she a gold-digger?” Mia asked. Tate ignored her. “Okay, let’s see, no values or morals? Hmmm, how about a liar?”
Tate frowned at her. “Why is liar so high up on the list? What about ex-con or, I don’t know, racist or something.”
“Because without trust, you have no basis for a relationship. Trust touches everything and no one can trust a liar.”
A hot knife cut down the center of his chest. Tate finished the whiskey.
“Looks like we’re sitting down to eat. You get a reprieve. But be prepared for the third degree after. Because, bro, I’ve never seen you as happy as you were for the short time you were with her. So if you haven’t figure out some way to mend the rift by dessert, I’m going to hound you until you strangle me.” She smiled sweetly and patted his cheek. “Then I’ll sick Rafe on you.”
As she walked away, Tate said, “I’m going to tell him you referred to him as a dog.”
She just laughed.
Tate had already traded his place setting card with someone else’s so he was sitting at a table where everyone would talk about nothing but hockey. The world could be on fire and they’d still be talking hockey.
But he knew he knew it was going to be one long ass night when the first course of Ahi tartar with avocado, ginger and sesame hit the table and everyone stopped talking to ooooooh at the presentation. Even Tate, who had absolutely no appetite and never ate raw anything, was tempted.
Delicate chunks and strips of ruby colored meat lay on a bed of sliced avocado, among chunks of avocado and sprinkled with sesame seeds and scallions.
Tate got away with not eating anything by saying he was allergic to seafood. He managed to take only a bite of the second course, fettuccine vongole, which was so good it made his eyes roll back in his head, by saying he was saving room for the main course.
So when the table was served either oak-fired swordfish or an A3 New York strip with endive marmalade and truffle crust with a red wine jus, Tate’s appetite came back with the intensity of his feelings for the chef.
The first bite of his steak actually made Tate moan. No one noticed because everyone else was doing the same. And, now, at the t
able that talked nothing but hockey, the conversation was all about the food and the chef. And Tate was peppered with questions about a woman he was trying to let go.
“Well,” the wife of a Rough Rider sponsor mused as she took her last bite of swordfish, she has definitely found her calling.” She smiled at Tate. “Like you’ve found yours. That happens so rarely, it’s a true blessing to see.”
As amazing as the food was, Tate’s stomach was too twisted with loss to eat any more. And while the others around the table continued to obsess of Olivia’s food, Tate obsessed over Olivia. Instead of trying to push her out of his heart, he started thinking of ways he could turn this situation around. But how did you convince someone they could trust you if they wouldn’t let you? And how could he possibly prove it to her if she was in Paris and he wasn’t?
When the woman beside Tate excused herself for the restroom, Quinn took her seat. Gingerly propped on the edge of the chair, facing Tate, she leaned toward him and spoke in an undertone at his ear.