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“They work together several nights a week,” I shot back quietly, acutely aware of the fact that I did not want to be having this personal discussion in front of James.  But I just couldn’t seem to keep it in.  If I didn’t talk about, I felt like I’d burst.
“Whether she’s around or not, she’ll only be able to milk the guilt-trip for so long.”
“You saw that too, right?  That’s totally what she’s doing.”
“Yes,” she said simply.  “Want my advice?”
I nodded, fascinated.  James was silent for our exchange, doing something on his phone, one proprietary arm thrown around Bianca’s shoulders.
“She wants him, you have him.  Don’t give him away.  Fight for him.  Stake your claim.”
“You think he’d just go for her if I don’t fight?  I don’t want a man that’s that easy to lose.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.  In fact, I know he wouldn’t.  What I mean is, you need to show him that he’s worth fighting for; that you’d never give him up.  Don’t you think it’s about time for that?”
I didn’t have the answer for that, but I certainly burned some calories stressing about it.
The reception was held at the Biello mansion.  The property was huge, but it was still a crush inside.
The interior decor was pretty much exactly what you would picture when thinking of an old Vegas magic act’s house in Viva Las Vegas.  Lots of white and gold, and hell, even pictures of white tigers.
I found almost right away that it was best just to stick close to James and Bianca.  The crowds parted for them, which was good, because there was no telling what an obsessed James would do if, God forbid, someone accidentally bumped into Bianca.
We hadn’t exactly rushed there, but it was a full hour before I spotted Tristan, and it was as he came through the front door, Mona on his arm.  They had only just arrived.
An entire hour later.
I told myself they must have just been held up at the funeral home.  I had to tell myself that, or I would have started screaming and throwing things, and I wouldn’t have stopped.
He hadn’t even spotted me yet, but I turned my back on him.
Bianca’s eyes were sympathetic as they met mine.
“Tell me, am I overreacting?  Am I being selfish and insensitive right now?”
“It’s a bad situation.  I think you’re doing your best.  James is almost done making rounds.  You want to catch a ride with us?  I could abscond with you to my painting studio, again.  I’ve been wanting to start on that painting with you that I was telling you about, with the yellow scarf, and you could vent at me to your heart’s content.”
That was tempting.  There was nothing I’d have liked better than to slip away before Tristan even saw me, and spend the afternoon with Bianca in her peaceful studio.  I loved that studio.  And I could undoubtedly use a good venting session.
“I would love that, but I did promise Tristan I’d stay close for the next few days, for moral support.  Still, it’s not like he needs me right this second, and he could be here all day.  Let me talk to him and see.”
I bit the bullet and approached him.
Mona was just holding his arm now, one big fake tit pressed into his bicep.  It was still a vast improvement over what she’d been doing before, which had been just shy of dry humping him in public.
They were talking to another couple, people I didn’t recognize, but I approached anyway.
“Tristan,” I said quietly.
He started and looked at me.  He seemed off, some stiffness in his expression cluing me in that something was wrong.
“Hey, I’m taking off with Bianca, but maybe I’ll catch you later tonight, okay?”  My words came out stilted, almost cold, which hadn’t been my intent at all.  I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
He started trying to pry his arm out of Mona’s death grip.  “Excuse me,” he told her.  “I need to talk to my girl.”
She let him go, giving me very solid eye contact.  I never could read her.  I’d considered briefly that she might be high, with the way she’d been acting, and everything else that was going on, but looking at her up close, I didn’t think it was that.  Still, she seemed just as off as Tristan did.  Something had definitely happened between the funeral and the reception.
I dreaded figuring out what.
“Hurry back,” she told him in a breathless voice.
I had to bite back a response to that.
Tristan tugged me down the nearest hallway and into a small sitting room that somehow didn’t have any occupants.  He shut the doors behind us, but there was no way to lock them.
“You’re upset,” he began quietly.
I shook my head, though he wasn’t wrong.  “I don’t think you need me here, in fact, I think it would be better if I left and leaving with Bianca seemed like the best solution.”
“I do need you here, and I know it’s tedious, but it would be really nice if you would just stay by my side.”
“Your side’s been occupied.”
He rubbed his temple while I began to pace around the room.  “Yet another reason I’d like you to stay close.  She’s…not herself today, and I would like to discourage her without making her day any worse than it already is.”