I had that damn ring, the stupid one I’d bought when I was seventeen, still sitting in my dresser. I’d thought it was so romantic back then, getting her this ring made with a stone named after her – the tempest stone.
She was used to nice things, things like she had in Vegas, and I had nothing like that. Even the damn ring I was going to give her was as cheap as I was.
I was here, alone, thinking about all of these things.
But mostly, I was pissed off that she didn’t say goodbye.
Again.
“Why the hell did you insist we have dinner?” I asked Iver. I was irritated with Silas for his recklessness, irritated with myself for fighting with him, and irritated with Iver for showing up here. I could barely contain my rage, and now I was sitting here across from Iver, at this small restaurant on the outskirts of town.
“Humor me. I drove here from the airport into the middle of Nowheresville, Colorado to rescue you from this town. I haven’t had lunch, and now it’s well past dinner and I’m starving,” Iver said, looking up at the waitress who arrived. “I don’t suppose you have a wine list, do you, darling?”
She put her hand on her hip, raised her eyebrows and gave Iver a look that could have peeled paint off a wall. “I don’t have a wine list, sweet cheeks,” she said.
Iver looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “What did I say?” he asked.
“I think it was the darling that pushed you over the edge,” I said.
He picked up his menu. “Have I lost all my charm?” he asked. “Is this place some kind of alternate reality where I have no effect on women?”
“Say it’s not so,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“I have two tickets out of Denver,” he said. “To New York.”
“Do we have a mark?”
“Oscar has some possibilities, but nothing that’s especially struck our fancy,” he said. “But…You don’t get your ticket until I hear about the man who’s the reason for you missing the meet.”
I shook my head. “Iver, I don’t want to talk about it,” I said wearily. “It’s - I don’t even know what it is. It’s done, I think. I’m not sure.”
Iver leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me everything,” he said. “I’m not leaving.”
So I told him the entire story-the history of Silas and me from the beginning to end. The whole time, Iver ate steak and I nibbled at the edge of my plate, my stomach churning. They did serve wine, and Iver ordered a glass of the house red wine, grimacing and declaring it unpalatable as soon as it hit his lips.
When I finished, Iver leaned back in his chair and looked at me carefully. “Well, it’s settled.”
“What’s settled?” I felt exhausted, the toll of the entire emotional day finally getting to me.
“What should be done.” Iver wiped the sides of his mouth with his napkin.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling cranky. “I’m not taking love advice from the man who never spends more than one night with a woman.”
“I wasn’t talking about your love life,” he said. “I was talking about the town. I’ve decided what needs to be done about that.”
“No, no, no,” I said, holding up my hand. “You’re not bringing Oscar and Emir here.”
“Of course I am, darling,” he said, leaning in close, his voice low. “And we’ll just have to grift the town.”
I shook my head. “Been there, done that,” I said. “Besides, it’s not the town that’s the problem.”
Iver waved his hand. “I know that,” he said. “But grifting the town sounds considerably more dramatic than grifting the sheriff and the mayor and the mining company. Stop trying to deny me my fun.”
“Perfect idea,” I said, sipping my coffee. “Especially since you’ve been seen in public with me now.”
Iver shrugged. “I’m behind the scenes this time, then,” he said. “Or you are. Either one. Details to be worked out later.”
“I’m not on board with it, Iver.”
“Well, then make up with your boyfriend and get on board,” Iver said. “I don’t find the concept of monogamy to be that appealing, but you’re clearly smitten with him.”
“I’m not smitten with him,” I protested weakly. But I was. I knew I was.
“Do I personally think you should retire from the game? No,” Iver said.
“I didn’t say I was retiring,” I said. “Don’t even breathe that word.”
But Iver held up his hand again. “Let me finish, darling,” he said. “You will only ever hear me utter these words one time, and if you ever tell anyone I spoke them, I’ll deny everything.”
“This I have to hear,” I said.
“I was in love once,” he said, and when I opened my mouth to talk, Iver shushed me. “I was married. Don’t look at me like it’s the most bizarre thing you’ve ever heard. It was a long time ago. She died. We were only together for a year before she passed, and that year was the happiest I’ve ever been, even though the last six months of it involved being by her bedside in a hospital and watching her waste away into nothing, literally a skeleton of who she was. I wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.”