After Kevin brought over the wine—with a decanter this time—Cary raised his glass.
“Cheers,” he said.
“Cheers.” Tyler took a slow sip, closed her eyes, and let the wine linger. It was even better than she remembered—and, miraculously, not a headache in a glass.
Her phone vibrated.
“Anyone we know?” Cary asked casually.
She read the message. “It’s Tommy,” she told him. “They’re at the casino.”
“Fucking Tommy.” Cary rolled his eyes. “I don’t like the way he was talking to you.”
“He talks to everyone that way.”
“Not me, he doesn’t. I’m afraid I’ve been too easy on him because he helped me when I was starting out.”
Tyler texted back and dropped her phone in her bag. “I told them to meet us here.”
Cary’s eyes bulged. “You what?”
She burst out laughing. “Relax—I’m kidding.”
He blew out a breath, relieved. “I’m not used to people messing with me, but I kind of like it.”
“Shh,” she whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. “Listen.”
Behind them, a woman gushed, “Best one yet. He just keeps getting better.”
They stayed quiet, eavesdropping for a moment, until he couldn’t resist. He half-turned around. “How did you like the show?”
Tyler nudged his arm. “Stop it.”
“Ow!” he joked, smiling at her with a flirtatious glance.
The woman with frosted highlights spoke first. “Likethe show?” she asked. “We loved it!”
“We’ve been going to his concerts for twenty years,” the other woman bragged. “Since we were in college, in fact.” She tugged proudly at her Cary Kingston hoodie. “Did you guys have tickets?” she asked, oblivious.
Tyler shook her head. “No, we didn’t.”
“Well, it sold out early,” Bragging Woman told them. “Better luck next time.”
A little while later Kevin came by their table and hovered. “Another bottle?” he asked as if it were water or something.
“Yes, please,” Cary said, emptying the decanter.
“Cary . . .” Tyler crossed her arms and dipped her chin, disapproval etched across her face. She prided herself on being financially responsible—and the wine he’d ordered was downright extravagant.
“What?” He shrugged. “It isn’t a school night.”
“Why don’t we have a glass instead?” she suggested.
“You can’t order it by the glass,” Kevin informed them.
Cary gave her a saucy grin. “We don’t have to drink it all.”
She shook the container of truffle popcorn, trying to empty the last piece. “It’s your call, but I need to tell you something.”
