“Er… I don’t think the drinks are free. We’re not rich professional athletes.”
“Damn. Well, I hope you have your credit card.”
She gives me a chiding look. “Yes, I do.”
Like I’ll let her buy me drinks.
I assume she makes good money. Condos in our building aren’t cheap, she has a nice car, and works a lot. I sort of understand what she does but not really—some kind of online marketing work. She started her own business shortly after Trevor cheated on her, working out of her home mostly, and now she’s nominated for an award so she must do well. She can probably afford to buy me a few drinks, but that’s not happening.
Once we’ve been dropped off in front of the hotel, we take the elevator to the fifth floor where the dinner’s being held in one of the ballrooms. The room is subtly lit by fancy chandeliers hanging above round tables topped with flower arrangements. Once inside, Andi stops and greets people with smiles. It seems like she knows everyone, getting congratulations on her nomination. She introduces me and I smile and shake hands with people I’ll never see again. Some of them recognize my name and their eyes widen. One guy wants to have a whole conversation about the upcoming season for the New Jersey Storm, but I manage to disengage and follow Andi.
“We’re at table twelve.” Andi peers at a sign on one table. “Oh, right there.”
“Who are we sitting with?”
She gives me the low down on the dinner companions she knows. “There’s the bar.” She points to the end of the room where people mill about an elegant glass and chrome bar with illuminated shelves of bottles behind it.
We both order glasses of red wine and I nudge her aside and tap my card to pay for them, ignoring her thwarted pout.
“Thank you,” she says with a crooked smile. “But I owe you for this.”
“Cheers.” I touch my glass to hers and move away from the bar.
We pause at a small high-top table by a window. Andi keeps looking around the room, clearly uneasy. I want to make her feelbetter. “You’re obviously going to win tonight. Do you have an acceptance speech prepared?”
She presses her lips together and meets my eyes. “No. I was afraid to jinx it by preparing.”
“I didn’t know you were superstitious.”
“Not like you.” She tilts her head. “I’ve never met anyone as superstitious as you.”
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
I laugh. “Oh. I thought it was.”
“Superstitions are irrational.”
“True.”
“So you know that but you still act on them.”
“Yes.” I drink more wine. “They serve a purpose.”
“Like what?”
“Why did you not prepare a speech?”
“Because…” The small furrow between her eyebrows deepens. “I said, I didn’t want to jinx winning.”
“But why? Did it make you feel better?”
She tilts her head. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You’re probably nervous about the award. It helped you deal with that. It gave you a sense of control.”
She purses her pretty red lips. “Right.”
