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“At least you talk about me to him.  That’s got to mean something.”
“It does.  I’ll always care about you.  I’m sorry it worked out like this.”
“So you and him?  You’re making it sound like a done deal.”
I shrugged helplessly.  “I have no idea.  Who can say?  We have a powerful history together, one that goes back years, and that ended in some of the worst tragedies of my life.  Nothing is a done deal, not at all, but I’ve just begun to realize that I might have it in me to give us another shot.”
“Well, you seem different.  You seem happy.  That’s got to be a good sign that things are going well.”
I smiled tremulously, so happy that he seemed to be accepting it all.  Hopefully this would give him a few steps in the right direction, towards moving on.  “They seem to be.  I’m taking things one day at a time.”
“It does worry me that you’re talking about it more like a cancer treatment than a relationship, but then I know you well enough to appreciate your little quirks.”
I laughed.  A weight had been lifted.  He was a good man, and he would not be trying to hold me back with guilt.
I finished our meal with a lighter heart, feeling that things with Andrew were settled, once and for all.
Before I started the drive back to work, I checked my phone and saw that I’d missed a few texts from Tristan.
Tristan:  How’s work?
And then, not twenty minutes after.
Tristan:  I’m coming to take you to lunch.  I just got some good news, and we need to celebrate.
That had been about forty minutes ago.
My mouth set in a grim line, cursing silently, I texted back.
Danika:  I’m on my way back to work now.  Coming back from lunch.
I didn’t elaborate, but I did wonder the entire drive what was wrong with my luck.  Some people could get away with all sorts of deceptions.
Not that this was a deception, I told myself.  I just hadn’t bothered to tell him, because who I had a friendly lunch with was not his business.
But still, I had a long rant in my head about the fact that I did indeed have the worst luck in the world.
I also spent a good chunk of that drive wondering what I would tell Tristan if he asked who I’d gone to lunch with.  I could easily say Bev, or simply say it’d been business.  It was unlikely he’d catch me in either lie.
I didn’t entertain the thought for long.  I wasn’t a liar, and I hadn’t done anything wrong.  If he asked me, I was just going to tell him.  Easy peasy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tristan was at the gallery waiting when I got there.  He was chatting with Kate.  He had a deck of cards out, no doubt wowing her with one of his mind-boggling tricks.
I smiled fondly.  He was charming her into a moon-eyed mess.  I could certainly relate.
I’d seen many of his tricks, and I’d even gotten that sneaky viewing of his stage act.
Even so, he still had the ability to shock me with his talent.
He pointed to a magazine that had been strewn carelessly onto the podium.  Some sort of Vegas events brochure, I noticed, as Kate picked it up.
“Page sixty-two,” he told her with a grin.
She flipped it open to the page and started freaking the f**k out.  “Oh my God.  Oh my God.  Oh my God!  How did you do that?  How could you possibly, I mean, I picked that card myself.  It was my choice, which means, oh my God, I don’t know what it means.  Holy mother of God.”
I shook my head, disbelieving, approached them.  On page sixty-two of the magazine was a picture of a deck of cards, with one card flipped up on top.  It was a king of spades.
“You picked a king of spades?” I asked her, studying her face.
She nodded vehemently.  “That is some freaky shit, right?”
I swung a narrow gaze Tristan’s way.  “How on earth?”
Those Troublesome dimples came out to play.  “You know.  Magic.”
I pulled him into my office, not even giving a gape-mouthed Kate any explanation.  “Seriously, tell me how you did that, because unless you really have sold your soul to Satan for some magical powers—”
“Hey now!”
“Unless that has happened, there is an explanation for that trick back there, and you really need to tell me, because that one freaked me out.”
He shook his head, smiling.  “I can’t just give out trade secrets.  I need some guarantee, boo, some sort of contract between the two of us that assures your loyalty.”
“I swear I won’t give away the trick,” I told him.
He tilted my chin up with a light touch, his eyes so affectionate that I had to blink rapidly and look away, to stay unaffected.
“Okay, I’ll take that, and now I just have to keep you close, as insurance, you understand.” He smiled.  It was overkill.  “It was actually a two-bit trick.  The cheapest kind of all.  The really difficult involved stuff is never fully appreciated, which, as a professional, is vexing.  But this one was simple.”
“You somehow have an extra page that you carry around and slip into the magazine, after she picks a card?”
He laughed and shook his head.  “No.  That would be a feat, there.  I’ve seen the magazine before, and I knew about the page, about the card.  I’m actually responsible for that page being in all of the copies of that publication, and it’s a popular one around town.”