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“And also got us stuck there,” Cole adds.
“You weren’t there?” I ask Zara.
“Hell no! With that motley crew? I had a wedding shower that weekend but was glad to miss it. I’m not really a concert girl.”
“Whoa,” Tris says. “Not a concert girl? Who says such a thing? Cole, where did you find her?”
“Bridgewater, which must be the problem,” he teases, earning a swat from his wife. “We nearly broke up when she told me.”
He turns back to us.
“There are just some things you should disclose in a relationship before getting serious,” Cole says.
Tris and I, as we’ve done all night, exchange a quick glance. It feels very much like a double date with the glaring exception of the fact that we’re not dating. For real, anyway.
But something definitely shifted between us in the kitchen.
“Such as?” Tris asks.
“Does he snore?” I venture.
“Nope,” Zara says. “But I do.”
“Like a sailor,” Cole adds.
“Do sailors snore really loud?” I ask, provoking laughs all around.
“I think it’s swear,” Zara says. “Swears like a sailor.”
“In which case . . .” Tris spins his barstool toward Cole and Zara. “That’s Gian.”
“Oh my God,” Zara exclaims. “Gian really does swear a lot.”
“But never in front of my parents,” Tris adds. “Otherwise, he lets the fucks fly pretty liberally.”
“I snagged him at Festa yesterday,” Cole says. “Asked him to join us Thursday since someone is skipping out, and we need another guy.”
“Thursday?” I ask.
Tris looks at me, and when he does, my stomach does a little flip.
“We play basketball every Thursday. I usually run over before dinner service gets too busy. But this week with the . . .”
He trails off for a reason.
Cole and Zara are clearly confused, so I try to smooth it over.
“The judges,” I finish. “Judges fromCucina Magazineare coming to Tris’s place on Friday and here on Saturday.”
“Oh, wow.” Zara raises her glass to us both. “Congrats, guys. I didn’t realize you were nominated too, Tris. I’ll be sure to run a special story on it.”
We all raise our glasses in a toast.
For every stretch of conversation that feels completely normal, as if we’re just two couples enjoying some drinks, there are reminders, like this one, that the situation is anything but normal.
“Evie,” Cole says as he puts his half-drunk beer on the bar. “Can I get a glass of water?”
He begins to open the small pill packages that I gave him with each beer. When Angel Inc. first launched, it felt really strange to take a pill at a bar, or to see others pop four or five of the small white packages open. But now, as Cole takes the Angel pills that will reverse the effects of the beer he’s been drinking, it’s par for the course.
