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Tris is silent.
“Are you ok?” he asks finally.
Am I? No. And maybe I never will be. At least, not as ok as I’d been when Dad was alive. Losing Mom to cancer had been devastating. Losing my father, soul-crushing. I thought I’d been managing alright, but now I’m not so sure.
“I miss him,” I say. “I miss talking to him every day. I miss his corny jokes. His deep laugh that came from his belly. I miss his advice. And guidance. I don’t know that I can do this, Tris,” I say, the words flooding from my mouth. “I hate that I care so much about this award,” I admit, glad I’d not started driving. Lord knows where I’d end up this time. “And I hate that I’m jealous of you when I should be happy for your success.”
“Evie,” Tris says, his velvet-smooth voice more comforting than I’d like to admit. “I had no idea what Gian had been planning. That’s what I wanted to tell you. He told me to get my ass down to the restaurant with a suit on, and that was it.”
My shoulders drop. “If you had known, what would you have done?”
He has to see what I do.
That this relationship is doomed to fail.
“It’s great press. Youshouldhave given that interview.”
“I’d have warned you first.”
As if that would have done much good.
“You shouldn’t have to,” I insist. “You need to do anything and everything possible to make DeLuca’s a success. The last thing you need is to worry about my feelings. That’s no way to run a business.”
“This is different, Evie. It’s something you really wanted. Things like this won’t happen all that often.”
“Maybe not a Cucina Award,” I argue, “but next time it will be something else. Something to remind us both that we run the two most successful Italian restaurants in Bridgewater. When a customer is eating dinner at Leoni’s, they are not at your place. And vice versa. We are rivals, plain and simple. And no amount of wishing that away will change our circumstances.”
Maybe I’m hoping he can say something to change the fact. But of course, he can’t. There’s no way to argue my point.
“We need to talk. What do you have planned today?”
Precisely nothing. I cleared my calendar knowing Tris was going to have a busy week.
“Besides visiting my parents’ graves and maybe going home to wallow in my grief?” I ask more sarcastically than I’d intended.
“Yes,” Tris answers. “Besides that.”
I sigh. “Nothing.”
“Good. Pack an overnight bag. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
“An overnight bag?” I repeat, confused.
“Yes. Shorts. A bathing suit. The basics. I’ve gotta go. Get home and throw a few things together. I’ll see you soon.”
Before I can even answer, Tris hangs up. I look over to where my mom and dad’s grave is, say a silent goodbye, and then put the car into drive.
I have no idea what he’s planning, but one hour isn’t a lot of time to pack for a trip. To where, I have no clue. I guess we’re not breaking up today. When I woke up, I thought for sure that’s where Tris and I were headed. It just doesn’t feel like this can work. Maybe I’m not strong enough to sleep with the enemy, so to speak.
And now, somehow, I’m heading home to pack an overnight bag for some mystery trip with the very same man who I thought may have just, inadvertently, broken my heart. Just as I feared.
I no longer know what to think, or feel. Except rushed. I’ve got less than an hour now and lots to do.
36
Tristano
“I need something special.”
