But he’s no Tristan.
Which could be said of anyone. Anyone but Tristan, anyway.
Rita looked over to Sylvia. “You’ll be joining us as well, of course.”
“Oh, no, not me. A fine-dining experience like that would be wasted on someone with my palate.”
“Nonsense.” Eli walked out of the group and pulled her over to stand with them. “You’re a part of this as much as anyone. And besides, there’s nothing like your first foray with real gourmet food. We can all be privy to that and enjoy watching your head explode.”
Sylvia blushed a deep red. “I suppose if I’m providing the entertainment, it would be rude of me not to go.”
“Perfect.” Eli gave them all one last smile. “Okay, then. Seven thirty, car will pick you up at the hotel, so you have an hour and half to get back there and get ready.”
“Oh, you’re pushing me.” Willa bounced up her white curls. “I haven’t gotten ready that fast in years. Guess I’ll have to pop some speed or something.”
Dexter snorted a laugh. “I can’tcondonethat, but reservations are reservations.” He patted an oversized hand on her dainty shoulder. “All right, we’re off, you’re off. They’re probably annoyed that we’re still here as it is.”
Sylvia and the judges all filed away, leaving Tristan, Henry, and Willa to stand around the set. Willa sighed and shrugged. “I need to get my hair done and pull out that nice dress I’m glad I decided to bring after all.” She winked. “You boys have fun and behave yourselves.”
Henry fought a surge of panic.What does that mean?He closed his eyes and counted a slow breath.It’s nothing. I’m being paranoid.And right now, Tristan needed a rock, not a mirror to his own anxieties. So Henry nodded and winked at Willa as she headed out. Then he turned to look straight at Tristan. “You... heard anything about this Bluestone Lotus place? You’re way more plugged in to all the trendy stuff than I am, especially outside Seattle.”Compliment him, get him to talk about something other than the money. Get him out of his own worries for a second.
“Umm, yeah.” Tristan pulled off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “It’s a new, high-end molecular gastronomy joint. I haven’t really checked out the menu, just seen it in passing, but it’s gotten some attention. Not, like, Osteria Francescana attention, but attention.” He slipped his glasses back on. “We should probably get going if we want to look presentable.”
“Right, yeah.” Henry wanted to wrap his arm around Tristan as they walked out, but fought down the urge.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Tristan stopped. “Do you think you could get ready in your room? It’ll be easier than trying to share the shower or go in turns or anything like that.”
Henry nodded. Best not to push the issue when Tristan was obviously already nervous as hell. “No problem. Meet back at your room?”
“Yeah. I’ll leave it ajar, in case I’m not out of the shower yet.” He brushed his fingers gently against Henry’s hand. “As long as you agree not to get too handsy until we get back from dinner. Showing up in come-stained dress clothes might not be the classiest decision.”
Henry chuckled at the joke, even though it didn’t seem funny. Not the way Tristan delivered it, with uncertainty quivering in his voice and worry flashing gray and lifeless behind his eyes. “I’ll restrain myself as best I can.”
There was an easy way around the financial concerns, at least. They just needed to make it back to the hotel.
Tristan stood under the scalding flow of the shower, hoping it would boil out or wash away all his worries. “You’re being ridiculous. The fucking network’s going to pay for this like they pay for everything else. An eight-course dinner is a drop in the bucket to them. They probably spend more than that a day on hair and makeup.” Still, the worry remained. Especially since there would be cameras. It was bad enough already, possibly having to show off his finances—or specifically the lack thereof—in front of Dexter and Rita and Eli. But good lord, that would be such juicy drama, him asking the price of the meal and checking his wallet and bank account. That clip would be plastered all over every trashy tabloid website for the rest of his life. Were there still restaurants in the world that would make you go back and wash dishes? Or was that only a sitcom trope?
Once they paid him for the show, he’d be fine, but what would he do tonight? Ask for an advance on the check to pay for dinner? “I should have brought the stupid credit card.” Except he’d specifically left that with Lucia in case there was an emergency on that end.
“I should just ask them if the network’s covering it.” But that wouldalsobe a revelation of his financial hardship. There was no face-saving solution other than magically pulling money out of his ass. And if he thought that might have worked, he’d have tried it right then and there.
A gentle knock, then Henry’s voice filtered through the pounding water and closed door. “Hey, no need to rush, okay? I can wait.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Tristan had washed right away. The rest of his time in the shower had been spent taking advantage of the industrial-strength water heater, something his apartment definitely lacked. Hot water and plenty of time to ruminate and spiral through scenarios that would never play out. Unless of course they did.
He shut off the water, toweled off enough that he didn’t leave an ocean for housekeeping to wipe up, then pulled on his bathrobe and stepped out. Henry was sitting on the very edge of the bed again. He wore black slacks and a deep burgundy button-down that caught the light just so. He’d shaved off all notion of stubble, which Tristan could have easily seen as a shame—he liked that stubble, hadusesfor that stubble—but it worked. He looked crisp and wonderful and every bit the young socialite out on the town that Seattle had trained both of them to be. Hell, Tristan was pretty sure he’d almost bought himself that same shirt, once. He remembered the breast pocket with the satin-covered square button. “You clean up pretty.”
“Yeah. I hate doing it, but I figure I might as well put my best foot forward. I checked out the restaurant, and then I compared myself, and we didnotmatch up well.”
“Oh, you would have been fine.” Tristan pulled out the only really nice clothing he’d brought with him: a brilliant green dress shirt and dark slacks. Toss a black undershirt on underneath and he could almost be presentable. “If it were up to me, I’d let you in anywhere. Even if you showed up stubbly and sweaty and naked as a jaybird.” Okay,thatwas trying too hard to sound natural and coming off plain weird, but it was better to go with it. Tristan turned and winked at Henry. “I might bemorelikely if you were stubbly, sweaty, and naked, but that’s probably personal bias.”
The last thing Tristan wanted to do was let Henry in on his worries. This was set to be a good night for him. Forbothof them, because realistically, Tristan knew he wasn’t going to have to pay. Probably. He knew it wasn’t going to be a face-melting embarrassment, but that did jack shit to stop his anxiety.
Tristan walked over to the dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers. Blue and white houndstooth and, far more importantly, not worn for hours and hours in a very hot kitchen. They’d been a gift from his ex, Jacky, before Jacky had turned out to be an asshole and Tristan had sworn off men for the third time. But they were the only pair of underwear that made him feel confident.
He slipped them on, then dropped the bathrobe and continued dressing. “So, it sounds to me like Rita must know the people at this restaurant pretty well. I mean, it’s a Saturday night, isn’t it? Getting outdoor seating at an expensive-ass restaurant is... well, you’re aware. You’ve lived in Seattle even longer than me.”
“Yeah, but a personal connection can remove a lot of obstacles. I bet she got a good deal, too, if she knows people there.” Henry sighed, but not his contented sigh. A tiny flutter of warmth traveled through Tristan’s chest—he could recognize Henry’s damn sighs. But then the flutter died. This sigh signaled a heavy subject incoming, and it was better to rip off the bandage in one damn fell swoop.
