WAVE

Chapter 14

"I'm famished."

Tristan takes a seat across from me, hand on his tie. "Well, we've come to the right place then. My friend owns the restaurant. I can probably convince him to double your portion."

I grin, opening the menu. "My knight in shining armor. What's good here?"

"I rarely ask for something specific. Raul just brings out his special."

"And you always like it?"

He nods, pursing his lips. "I think there was some eggplant risotto or something once, but other than that... He's an amazing chef."

I lay down my menu. "You've sold me on it."

Our waiter arrives to take our orders, and within minutes of being in the back, a man in a chef's uniform laughs while approaching our table. Before he hugs Tristan, he holds up his hands cautiously. "You're good, right? Where are you messed up?"

"Shoulder," Tristan says, shrugging it off, embracing him. "Good to see you, man."

"When I tell you, the entire wait staff huddled around the TV in the kitchen when we heard what had happened. I tried calling—"

"I know. I've just been seeing someone..."

Raul glances at me now, following Tristan's gaze. "She...was in the videos of you getting off the plane, wasn't she?"

Tristan nods. "Raul, this is Genevieve. We actually met in Thailand."

His friend scoffs in amazement, shaking his head as he bends, shaking my hand. "Hi. Hello. Wow, and you're here together? Isn't that a story."

"It's definitely been a whirlwind." I sigh, chuckling.

Raul grins. "Well, I'm happy for you...both. I can't imagine what you went through, but I can imagine it was awful. I wanted to come out and say hi, but we're slammed in the back."

Tristan squeezes Raul's shoulder. "For sure. Go on. We'll have a drink soon, yeah?"

"I'll give you a call." He points at him, backing up. "Pick up this time—"

"I will."

While he's in the process of sitting, his phone buzzes on the table, Tanya's name filling the screen. He winces apologetically. "I've got to take this."

"Go ahead. I'm good."

He leans in, kissing my cheek before he heads off toward the front. Our waiter stops with our wine, pouring two glasses, leaving the bottle on the linen tablecloth. I adjust the cloth napkin on my legs, gazing out of the window at the dock.

When Tristan returns, it hasn't been long. But my smile fades at his furrowed brows, at the distress touching the lines of his face. Something's wrong.

He reaches me, leaning down by my ear. "I'm so sorry, but we need to leave. Right now."

Confused, I nod silently, standing up, not used to seeing Tristan this concerned.

Setting down my napkin, I grab my purse, glancing at the diners around us watching us go. What the hell is going on?

He takes my hand, guiding me through the aisles. The kitchen is an open concept and Raul makes eye contact immediately, brows raised in question, unsure as to why we're leaving without the food they're making.

"Can you explain what's happening?" I ask.

"In the car."

When his hand pushes the front door open, complete chaos ensues.