I’d been so distracted by the private plane and the subsequent revelation about the Broad Sheets article that I hadn’t even stopped to think about why Ollie was chartering us to Montana.

“Better clarify that this is off the record,” Gabe says.

I don’t like his tone, nor his implication.

Still, I make a point of putting my phone away. Ollie is looking between us, clearly not sure how to proceed.

“I don’t know if you remember,” Ollie says. “But Gabe did a show on Broadway a few years ago.”

The tension at the table suddenly ratchets up to eight.

“Oh, I remember,” I say.

I’d known that this conversation was inevitable, just like I know I’m going to have to ask Gabe about the phone call. I just hadn’t expected Ollie to be the one to shine a flashlight on this particular elephant in the corner.

“She saw it,” Gabe says.

“I saw it,” I confirm. “I saw the who-ole thing.”

The whisky has made my tone a little loopy.

Ollie’s eyes are ping-ponging back and forth between the two of us.

“I see,” he says.

He doesn’t. He has no idea what we’re talking about.

“She came on opening night,” Gabe says.

Recognition dawns, and Ollie looks down at his phone.

“Oh look,” he says. “An important call.”

“Your phone didn’t even ring,” I say.

“I must take this,” he says, getting up from the table.

“You’re not that good of an actor,” Gabe says as Ollie walks away, his un-rung phone against his ear.

Gabe looks at me. I look back.

“So,” he says.

I hadn’t planned on going. When I saw that Gabe had signed on to play Karl Lindner in A Raisin in the Sun during his Bond hiatus, I had planned to completely avoid Times Square for the duration of the limited run.

Then I was sent a ticket. To opening night.

I hadn’t told Jeremy. He’d been working nonstop on his second novel and things had been strained between us for months.

Gabe was still married, but the gossip columns had made a big deal about the fact that Jacinda was not relocating to New York with him and was staying in London. According to everyone, they were either separated or days away from getting a divorce.

I told myself that the invitation meant nothing. That it was business. That maybe someone on his team thought I’d write something about it. That maybe Gabe didn’t even know I was coming.

But I’d worn my nicest dress and gotten my hair blown out. I wore lipstick. Heels.

Jeremy didn’t even notice when I left the apartment.