I glanced down at my cap-sleeved dress with its flattering ruching and acknowledged that he’d never seen me dressed up. “I’m surprised you’re still in town.”
More surprised that he’d looked me up, but I didn’t say that. I was glad he had, because I’d been worried about him.
“We sold out our Jones Beach show over the weekend, then played the Meadowlands last night. I skipped out on the guys because I wanted to see you before we head south. I searched for you online, found out where you worked, and came up.”
Good old Google, I thought miserably. “I’m so stoked that everything’s working out for you now. Do you have time to grab lunch?”
“Yes.”
His answer came quickly and fervently, which set off a little warning. I was pissed, extremely hurt, and eager to retaliate against Gideon, but I didn’t want to mislead Brett. Still, I couldn’t resist taking him to the restaurant where Cary and I had once been photographed together, in the hopes of getting caught by the paparazzi again. It would serve Gideon right to see what it felt like.
On the cab ride over, Brett asked about Cary and wasn’t surprised to learn that my best friend had moved across the country with me.
“You two were always inseparable,” he said. “Except when he was getting laid. Tell him I said hi.”
“Sure.” I didn’t mention that Cary was in the hospital, because it felt too private to share.
It wasn’t until we were seated in the restaurant that Brett took off his shades, so that was the first time I got a glimpse of the shiner that encompassed the area from his right eyebrow down to his cheekbone.
“Jesus,” I breathed, wincing. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Makeup made it disappear on stage. And you’ve seen me with worse. Besides, I got a couple good hits in, didn’t I?”
Remembering the bruising on Gideon’s jaw and back, I nodded. “You did.”
“So . . .” He paused as the waiter came by and dropped off two glasses and a chilled bottle of water. “You’re dating Gideon Cross.”
I wondered why that question always seemed to pop up at a time when I wasn’t sure the relationship would last another minute. “We’ve been seeing each other.”
“Is it serious?”
“Sometimes it seems that way,” I said honestly. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“Not now.”
We took some time to read the menu and place our orders. The restaurant was busy and noisy, the background music barely heard over the hum of conversation and clatter of plates from the nearby kitchen. We looked across the table at each other, sizing one another up. I felt the thrum of attraction between us. When he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, I knew he was aware of it, too.
“Why did you write ‘Golden’?” I asked suddenly, unable to hold back my curiosity a moment longer. I’d been playing it off as nothing big with both Gideon and Cary, but it was driving me crazy.
Brett sat back in his chair. “Because I think about you a lot. I can’t stop thinking about you actually.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“We had it going on for six months, Eva. That’s the longest I’ve ever been with someone.”
“But we weren’t with each other,” I argued. My voice lowered. “Aside from sexually.”
His mouth thinned. “I understand what I was to you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t get hurt.”
I stared at him for a long minute, my heart beating too quickly in my chest. “I feel like I’m stoned or something. The way I remember it, we’d hook up after shows, then you’d go about your business. And if I wasn’t there to put out, you’d grab someone else.”
He leaned forward. “Bullshit. I tried getting you to hang out. I was always asking you to stick around.”