“That’s not a very decisive decision, Iz.”
“Actually, I have a proposal.”
The other conversations at the table stopped dead, his friends capable of smelling impending drama for miles. It was a talent he happened to also share.
“I’m leery, but listening.”
“I need a date for a function.”
“I can ask Abby if she’s busy?”
Isabella slapped his arm. “I meant you.”
“What sort of function?”
“It’s a charity thing.”
There was a distinctive thud in his chest, his heart stopping and falling to the bottom of his chest cavity. “Isabella.”
“No, no, hear me out! It’s on the up and up. I just hate going to these things alone, but Liv made me promise I’d meet her there.”
“Olivia and Nate are going?”
“Liv is, and she’d love to see you. Nate is tentative because of some work thing he’s wrapping up.”
The plot thickened, and so did his suspicion. “This isn’t a setup, correct? Because you wouldn’t do that to me,correct?”
She batted her eyelashes, which did nothing to help her case, but looked adorable, so he let it slide. “My darling, I would never put you in a position where you’d get hurt. Surely you know that?”
He did know that. He also knew she and Olivia would absolutely get him into a situation they thought for sure would go well, when in fact it would probably rip him to shreds.
He hadn’t seen or heard a peep from or about Evan since they’d left the island. In a rogue moment of weakness, he’d looked upthe Bleat,only to close and block the URL a moment later.
To think that such gossipy trash would have once delighted him. Maybe it still would, if the subject matter wasn’t someone he still cared deeply for, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise.
The things they were saying, based entirely on hearsay, were excoriating. It infuriated him. Made him want to write a sternly worded letter to the editor, except he’d feared becoming a target of their vitriol himself. Especially if they discovered who he was.
If he was grateful for one thing, it was the lack of pictures in the articles. He couldn’t bear to see Evan’s face, especially with a graceful and stunning woman on his arm. Not that he had any idea whether the news he was dating someone was true, or just more hearsay and trash. Nor did he intend to ask anyone who might know, because dammit, he’d rather the suspense kill him than confirm he’d lost his chance to ever see him again.
“He makes that face whenever he’s thinking abouthim.” Manuel’s stage whisper cut through the fog, and Heath cast him a scathing look.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, dearest. That face is one hundred percent reserved forhim.”
Isabella’s eyes darted between the catty bitches he called friends, then settled on his indignant rage. “I’m assuminghimrefers to…”
Andres clicked his tongue. “Oh, gorgeous, ofcourseit does. Do you know he thought he could hide it from us? Can you imagine?”
“I was successful for months until you ruined it.”
Andres and his goddamn inherited connections. One evening, he’d slipped into his chair for Friday Night Bitchfest looking like a sated cat in a bird sanctuary. Wasn’t the man from the plane Evan Westin? Did Heath know he’d lately been the subject of numerous scandals?
He’d then proceeded to dish about Evan’s father, their estrangement, and the mysterious circumstances that surrounded their entire relationship. Things his grandmother had known, things her friends had heard.
Then he’d moved on to the wedding fiasco. “My God, no wonder the man was drunk and looking for love. Maybe you should have joined him. Gotten that handsome attendant’s number. You could be two peas in a very snug pod.”
Heath had folded like a cheap suit. There’d been so many tears, they’d had to replenish the table napkins from the bar. He’d even broken his no-drinking rule, sucking down a candy-sweet daiquiri that made his head swim, but somewhat calmed his nerves.
Of course, Manuel had insisted he spend the evening at his house to be safe, and of course he’d gone sleepwalking, which led to another bout of hysteria, because even his damn medical conditions weren’t safe from memories of Evan.
