nt to get off my chest.”
This didn’t sound good. A confession on the eve of my wedding?
“Okay, go ahead,” I said quickly, even though I was overwhelmed with trepidation.
“I showed Evan some of your work a while back, when he visited the gallery. I want you to understand,” he said, noticing my blank expression. “This was before you two met through that dating site. He seemed very taken by your painting.”
“Oh.”
“The thing is, I think that’s why he looked you up on that dating site… ” Tommy hesitated. “In fact, I think it might have been the reason he joined it, Anna. To meet you, exclusively. I mean… you know Evan. I can’t really see him needing to use a dating site, can you? I don’t want to give you the impression he’s some kind of Lothario, but he’s never struck me as the type of guy who has trouble getting female companionship.”
It wasn’t what I expected. Not at all. No room filled with former murdered wives’ bones and dripping blood. I was stunned by his admission. Confused.
Pleased?
Wasn’t it good that Evan had been explicitly interested in me versus any generic form of female companionship to help him through a difficult time in his life? Wasn’t it hopeful that he’d sought out the artist whose work had touched him, versus seeking out just any young blonde during a time when he wanted to rekindle not only his libido but also his optimism about living again?
Still, it was weird. Why wouldn’t he want me to know that he’d admired my paintings before he’d met me?
“Why didn’t you mention it to me before?” I asked Tommy.
“Evan asked me not to say anything about it.”
I rarely saw Tommy look uncomfortable, but he did in that moment.
“I don’t understand. Why would Evan not want me to know he’d seen my work? He made it seem like he never had before, like the gallery showing was the first viewing for him.”
“I honestly don’t know why he asked me not to say anything, Anna.”
“But you must have an idea—”
He held up his hand, cutting me off mid-sentence.
“I’m serious, I don’t know. I won’t claim that I understand the depths of Evan Halifax. He’s a dark horse sometimes. But I will say this: it doesn’t surprise me that you caught his interest. It doesn’t surprise me at all. You’re beautiful, you’re brilliant, you have your own unique vision and you defend it, despite other people’s opinions. You’re genuinely kind, which is a characteristic in very short supply in the world nowadays. But I wanted you know about showing him your paintings that time before you two ever hooked up. I wanted you to know… before tomorrow.”
Before you marry him and it’s too late.
“Anna?”
I started guiltily at the sound of Evan’s voice behind me. I turned. He stood at the top of the terrace stairs. His light-infused gray eyes—gold and silver combined—flickered between Tommy and me. His brow creased in polite puzzlement.
“Is everything okay?” Evan asked, walking toward us.
“Yeah,” I said brightly. I put out my hand. He took it and bent to place a kiss on my temple. Determined to ignore my anxiety at Tommy’s strange confession, I turned my chin up. Our mouths met in a warm, lingering kiss. For a too-brief moment, my world narrowed down to Evan’s scent and taste.
“Tommy was just doing his duty, checking in with the bride before the wedding,” I told him softly.
“Quieting bridal nerves?” Evan asked.
Tommy looked away at Evan’s sliding stare in his direction, so I spoke for him.
“There wasn’t a single nerve to quiet,” I insisted, taking Evan’s hand and urging him toward the stairs and the gardens.
That vague, unsettled feeling I’d acquired on the terrace with Tommy stayed with me through dinner like a sour stomach that wasn’t bad enough to send me to bed, but unpleasant enough to taint what should have been a beautiful evening.
Evan had catered a meal from Caprice, which we ate alfresco. The conversation was good, the food excellent, the wine sublime, and the view of the bay like something you’d see on the cover of Condé Nast Traveler.
As for myself, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the Evan-portion of that ideal picture. I caught him a few times watching me with his typical focused, calm stare while he laughed at one of my father’s lame jokes, or listened attentively while my mom explained one of the many challenges of teaching art to public high school students. If I’d had to interpret that stare of his, I’d guess I was doing an awful job of acting like I didn’t have a care in the universe. I’d told Jessica that I’d fallen in love with him because he saw me, after all. So I had no call for complaining when he did so, even when I was trying to hide something.