“Speaking of smart women…” Gabe glanced around. “Where’s your date?”

Or a foursome.

After all, Isabella Barris was stunningly beautiful. Agreeing to be in a foursome with someone like me would be akin to charity work for her.

Oliver waved a hand. “I sent her home,” he said. “She did her part and she is now released from her responsibilities.”

It was subtle, but Oliver’s demeanor had changed. Like the missing vest and the undone tie, I sensed that something was loosening. Relaxing.

Considering I’d thought him completely at ease when he arrived at our table, I found myself even more impressed by his acting skills.

“Where’s your drink?” Gabe asked, gesturing into the dark before Oliver could respond.

“I should stop,” I said, but another cocktail was in front of me before I could resist too much.

“To Shared Hearts,” Gabe said.

We all raised our glasses.

“Did you like it?” Oliver asked after everyone had taken a sip.

“Like it?” Gabe put a hand on his chest. “Mate, you’re an icon. They should bronze you and install you in front of Grauman’s.”

“The accent is coming along nicely,” Oliver said. “Cheers.”

“Say the word,” Gabe said.

“Stop it.” Oliver waved his hand.

I was confused.

Even in the dim light of the restaurant, I could see that Oliver looked tired. Not physically tired, but a deeper, more emotional exhaustion seemed to be at play. With every minute he sat with us, I could see the vestiges of his performance begin to fade.

Gabe reached over and clasped him on the shoulder.

“The movie is great,” he said.

“I know.” Oliver closed his eyes.

Gabe gave Oliver a squeeze, an affectionate form of the Vulcan sleeper-hold.

“It made Chani cry.”

“That’s nice,” Oliver said.

His head had gone back, resting against the wall.

“Okay.” Gabe slapped his hands together.

I jumped, but Oliver just opened one eye.

“We’re getting out of here,” Gabe said.

“We are?” Oliver asked, opening the other eye.

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “Your movie is fucking great and we’re going to celebrate.”

Oliver sat up.

“I thought that’s what we were doing,” he said, gesturing toward the rest of the room.

“I know this isn’t how you want to celebrate,” Gabe said. “Not at some spendy event where everyone is kissing your ass and trying to make deals.”

There was a playful gleam in his eyes, and Oliver seemed to perk up.

“No?”

“No,” Gabe said. “Come on. You know you want it.”

“Of course, I do,” Oliver said. “But do you want it?”

I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but my heart did skip a beat when both of them turned to look at me as if they had just remembered I was still there.

“What about her?” Oliver asked sotto voce, inclining his head toward me.

Gabe lifted a shoulder. “It’s up to you.”

“Can we trust her?”