Amber finally turns in our direction fully. Her smile settles into place. Razor-thin, like the rest of her.
I straighten slightly in my seat but keep my expression relaxed. If this is happening, it’s happening on my terms. The booth suddenly feels smaller. The lighting less flattering. The anonymity I was so happy with twenty minutes ago evaporates completely.
Amber stops at the edge of our table. “Well,” she says as she rests her hand lightly on the back of the booth like she’s claiming territory. “This is unexpected.”
Damian’s voice is controlled. “Amber.”
I slide my glass slightly away from the edge of the table and meet her eyes directly. “Hello, Amber.”
She looks at me like I’m something she vaguely remembers stepping on once. “I didn’t realize this was a…reunion.”
“It’s dinner,” I reply. “Highly recommend the lengua tacos.”
Her gaze flicks down to the plates. Back up to him. “Damian, I know you’re aware that Temperance is Jason’s ex.”
Damian doesn’t blink. “I’m aware.”
“And your patient.”
“Formerpatient,” he corrects. “The distinction matters, as you well know.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Such a convenient distinction.”
I take a slow breath. “You look fantastic,” I tell her sweetly. “Very…preserved.”
Her lips press together. “I suppose the importance of age hits differently depending on one’s perspective. Wouldn’t you agree, Damian?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I say. “I’m still on the early side of that equation.”
She smiles tightly. “And what childlike wonder you must still possess.”
“Tell me, Amber,” I begin, “are there any wonders left for you in the world? Being that you were there when they were built, I have to imagine the answer is no.”
Damian shifts slightly beside me. Restraint radiates off him. He wants this over. So do I, but I’m having a tiny bit of fun at the moment, because she looks super pissed.
Amber leans in closer to the table. “The age difference is striking,” she says softly. “People will talk. Best you run along, before your mommy starts to worry.”
“People will always talk,” Damian interrupts me before I can respond. “People especially talk about others when they have nothing going on in their own lives. It’s sad, really.”
“And Meron?” she continues. “He doesn’t gossip. He fires people for violating ethics, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”
There it is. The real threat.
I set my napkin down carefully. “Your Botox must be wearing off,” I say conversationally. “I can see the jealousy lines in your forehead.”
Amber blinks. “Don’t you mean frown lines?” she asks coolly. “Not that I have any.”
“Honey,” I say, leaning forward just enough to lower my voice, “you worry so much about what Damian does with his free time that on you, frown lines and jealousy lines are the same thing. You might want to book that touch-up sooner rather than later. Or everyone will start noticing how jealous you look.”
Damian goes still beside me.
Amber’s composure fractures just a hair. Her voice is brittle. “Aren’t you the clever girl?”
“Nice of you to notice.” I smile, then dip a tortilla chip into salsa. “Are you done here? We were enjoying an amazing meal before you and last year’s outfit arrived.”
She straightens abruptly, smoothing her coat like the fabric offended her. “Enjoy your…tacos,” she says sharply to Damian. She looks at me one last time, searching for a crack. She doesn’t find one. Then she turns and walks out, heels striking the tile like punctuation marks.
The restaurant noise rushes back in. I release the breath I’ve been holding. “That was bracing.”
