Emily laughed. Even with all the trappings of this successful musician life, he was still Rob.
He started serving himself some food, but Emily just sipped the tequila. She was thinking about the text from Ezra. He still hadn’t responded to her. Had there been something he’d wanted to say when he called Ari’s house? When he called her cell phone earlier?
They’d had ceviche at their wedding. And a bottle of tequila, though not one quite as good as this. The night after they had gotten married, when they went back to their room alone, Ezra had whispered to her that he’d never been happier than he was in that moment. She’d whispered the same, and it had been true. She tried to remember that feeling. It was hard to recapture.
“You’re not eating,” Rob said, a piece of shrimp speared on his fork.
Emily focused in on him again. “Sorry,” she said. “Just thinking. How’s the ceviche?”
“Delicious,” he answered with a smile.
Emily put some on her plate and took a bite.
Rob refilled her tequila glass and his, which they’d both drained. “You okay, Queenie?” he asked.
“You called me Emily so many times during the show, I wasn’t sure if I’d lost my nickname,” she said, avoiding his question, picking up her glass.
“Well,” he said. “It seemed like I should introduce you to the audience properly.”
She took another sip of tequila. “You used my maiden name,” she said.
He took a sip. “I didn’t even realize,” he said. “I can introduce you differently tomorrow night. You’re staying for tomorrow night?”
She could see how gingerly he was stepping around this question.
“For tomorrow night, but then I think I have to go home.” She’d have loved to stay—for Miami, for whatever city came next after his break in LA, but Diana was right. If she did that, she’d become part of the show, part of the story. And she wasn’t ready for that. Even as good as it had felt to play with Rob tonight, even if it might be a way to repay him for the choices she’d made in the past, it meant too much for her future. It meant she’d be pushed into making decisions she wasn’t quite ready to make.
He nodded. “You know you’re welcome to tour with me as long as you want.”
“Thank you,” she said. Maybe it was because of what he’d been through in the last couple of years, or maybe it was because they hadn’t been together for so long and he was surprised she was here with him again, that he was being so careful, so thoughtful. His support felt unconditional—the opposite of how Ezra’s felt at the moment. It wouldn’t stay that way, she knew. At some point Rob would ask for more, but right now, he just seemed happy that she was there for however long she would be, in whatever way she could be.
He refilled their glasses again.
“This is my last one,” she said, realizing her words were starting to slide into one another. “I’m cut off after three.” She hadn’t felt this tipsy in a long time.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and then passed her a plate of plantains. “Friendly suggestion that you should eat your dinner instead of just drink it.”
She dutifully spooned some plantains onto her plate and ate one.
His face was in his hand, and he was smiling as he looked at her.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I just can’t believe you’re here with me, in my hotel room, in my T-shirt, drinking tequila.”
“Your villa,” she corrected him.
He laughed.
“I can’t really believe I’m here either,” she said. The tequila had blurred and sharpened her vision at the same time. The villa seemed fuzzy in the background, but every centimeter of Rob’s face was in hyperfocus. She could see a fan of tiny creases at the corners of his eyes. She reached out and touched them.
“Queen?” he asked.
“It’s a new part of you,” Emily tried to explain. “There are parts of you that I haven’t really met yet.”
She ran her fingers through the side of his hair, where a few silver strands broke up the brown. That was new, too.
“I smashed my finger in a car door,” he said, holding out the pointer on his right hand. “About six years ago.”
Emily held his finger and looked at the scar. “Did it hurt?” she asked.
“A lot,” he answered.
She pressed the scar against her lips. “All better,” she said.
“You want some water?” he asked.