“That’s nice you can do something with him that you both enjoy. Outside of work.” Since he shared, it feels natural to share something back. “My mom loves to cook and I join her to spend time with her, but I hate it. So much.”
“So you can cook me dinners?” he asks, leaning into me as he delivers the teasing question. As he gets closer, I can smell his aftershave, a citrusy bergamot that reminds me of a nice cup of Earl Grey on a gray, rainy day.
Some of my favorite things. Leftover from living in England, probably.
I snort. “Fat chance. I think you missed the part where I said I hated cooking.”
“What do you hate about it?” Gavin leans ever closer to get the butter plate from the other side of me. I stay where I am so he has to brush against me.
“I hated that it was expected of me. I was sent to the kitchen with Mom because I was the girl, while Ajay, the boy, got to go to the office with Dad. I resented that. And all those feelings kind of all come back up when I cook. Which is why I’m on a first name basis with my food delivery guy. Who is a saint.”
I don’t know why I told him all of that. I don’t think there’s any way he can use that against me or Loot, but it’s still probably too much emotional sharing for rivals.
I just got so caught up when he shared his thing.
“Then I’m glad I could give that guy the night off. He sounds like he works hard.” Gavin grabs my own roll and hands it to me. I stick out my tongue at him, but I do take the carbs.
I take another look around the room as we eat our rolls. “This place is nice...like nice enough that the Real Housewives could get in an argument in here.”
“Don’t tell me you watch that trash?”
“Excuse yourself?” My words and tone give him a warning. “That highly entertaining roller-coaster ride into the highs and lows of human nature?”
“But it’s so...” He pauses, maybe searching for a word that won’t make me want to punch him. He won’t find one; anything he says in that tone will make me want to punch him.
“Amazing?” I say, trying to help him out.
“That’s a word.” Not one he would use, from his tone of voice.
“Getting up in other people’s lives isthemost deeply ingrained human trait of all of civilization. The French court of Louis XIV hosted a lever and coucher every day so nobles could see the monarchs get up and get ready for bed. Romans have graffiti saying that some guy performed oral sex on ladies against the city wall. People painted scenes from their lives for posterity and they still hang in museums. We make a living selling them. People are nosy. We’ve always been nosy, and we always will be.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
That’s right. Don’t trash talk reality TV to me; it won’t be a fun time for the trash talker.
Before he even has a chance to talk any more trash, a man who looks like the silver-haired version of Gavin comes to our table. “Gavin, I didn’t know you were coming to this,” William says, patting Gavin on the shoulder.
“Hi, Dad.” He gets up to give his father a handshake. Not wanting to be caught with Gavin, I hunch down more so he doesn’t see me.
“Priya, nice to see you too.” Busted.
“You as well, William.” I get up and shake his hand, putting a smile on my face so he can’t see that I’m uncomfortable.
“I saw Gina’s here tonight.” William turns his attention back to his son without grilling me, despite the questioning look he gave me. Apparently he has other things to worry about.
“Yeah, I was talking to her about the cars. I think we can get it.” Gavin has pride in his voice at the prospect.
“It’s going to be a high profile sale. I should handle it, with my background in vintage car sales. Let me know when she’s coming and I can prepare a mock catalog.”
Ooof. This is a weirdly familiar conversation. But I’m usually at the receiving end of it, and the older man stealing my thunder is more tan. I feel a spark of sympathy for Gavin when I would usually enjoy his discomfort; I know the feeling too well to take pleasure in it. Not that I ever thought it would happen to Gavin. He’s usually so easygoing it’s hard to imagine him not getting what he wants.
Gavin looks less than confident, eyes shifting down and shoulders slumping. “But I already started the process with her. She likes my ideas.” His tone is subdued as well.
“I know. But this is for the best. I’ve done more car sales and you’ll be busy with the Richmond Collection as well.”
Gavin opens his mouth and then closes it. He opens it again, and I get the sense he drastically changed the content of what he was going to say. “That’s fine. I’ll let you know when she’s free for a meeting.”
“Good. Enjoy the night, you two.” William walks away, getting to his table across the palatial room before I turn to Gavin.
