I was going to need something stronger than champagne.
"I should go after him," Cass said. "He might do something stupid."
"The odds of that seem pretty good," Boner said cheerfully.
I punched his bicep lightly. If I did it hard, I'd hurt myself on his firm muscle.
"That's not helping," I said.
"Titmus the elder needs to learn to have a laugh," Boner said. "Archer, what do they say about laughing?"
"Research has shown that people who laugh more often can live up to and beyond their hundreds," Archer said. "Depends if you want that or not."
"Who wouldn't want to live until they're old and wrinkled?" Boner asked. "That's my plan. Imagine how cute me and Harlow will be when we're a hundred years old." He gave me a soft smile.
Cass was staring at me like he hadn't contemplated being around me for so long. He seemed to like the idea. He was still tense, still not forgiving, but whatever was growing between us wasn't dead. Finding out what I'd done hadn't killed it.
Archer had a similar, contemplative expression on his face, just a hint of it in his eyes.
"We have to live that long first," I reminded them.
"We will," Boner said with his usual, unshakeable confidence. "Or die trying."
That was more likely.
Cass shook his head, gave me a faint smile, and hurried off after his brother.
"What is this?" Boner said, putting an arm around my waist. "A wake? This is supposed to be a party. More champagne for everyone!" He gestured a server over and passed glasses around to Archer and me, before taking one for himself.
"I propose a toast. To living for a long time, and fucking loving every minute of it." He raised his glass.
I half expected Archer to quote some statistic about the chances of loving every minute of life, but instead he clinked his glass against ours and took a drink.
While I drank, I scanned the room again. Still no sign of Solomon Danforth, or Mr. Smooth.
No doubt the latter found someone more interesting to leave with. Someone as slick as him always did. He was the kind of guy I'd smile at if he came into my restaurant, and be polite, but nothing more. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. Or as far as I could drag his dead body.
I put him out of my mind and listened to Boner tell a silly story about his first few days in the city. Tried to listen anyway.My mind was turning over, wondering if Eros had turned up at all. Had I walked past him and not known? He could have been here all along, mingling with everyone, enjoying the food I made.
Chances were, he hadn’t, and all of this was for nothing.
If that was the case, why did I feel so uneasy?
CHAPTER 12
CASS
"Jules!" He was halfway down the block when I stepped out the gallery. He didn't stop, or even slow.
Asshole.
I trotted to catch up to him.
"What the fuck, bro?" I pulled the clip out of my hair and tucked it into my pocket, letting my hair fall over my face. My therapist called it a defense mechanism. A way to hide. Maybe she was right. Whatever. I liked it this way.
Jules stopped so suddenly I almost rushed past him.
"Same question," he said, giving me a dark look. "I told you that would be a waste of time. I don't know why the hell I let you talk me into going."
