Tristan (Knight's Edge Series Book 1)

by Liz Gavin

  Noah snorted. “What do you have to say about that?”

  “I swear to God, if it weren’t for the mosaic of certificates on the guy’s wall, I’d call him a quack.”

  “Would call? That means you don’t call him that.”

  “Nope,” Tristan confessed, crestfallen. He couldn’t help the feeling he had turned into a coward. “Instead, I’ve started revisiting choices and rethinking grudges.”

  “That’s great, Big T. I’m proud of you,” Noah exulted.

  Attempting to get out from under the spotlight, Tristan asked. “How’s the songwriting going?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Noah’s evasive reply didn’t convince Tristan.

  “Don’t play coy with me. You were humming a song the other day in the apartment, at breakfast. A tune you had just composed.”

  “That’s the end of the story. My melody is waiting for your lyrics.”

  Tristan raised his hands in mock defeat as he stood up and collected his stuff to leave their office. “I get it, you’re not ready to talk about your feeling for a certain amazing woman we both know. Fine, don’t talk.” He opened the door and looked over his shoulder. Noah was shuffling papers, pretending to focus on work. He knew it because those payroll reports Noah held were over six months old. “Just be sure to make the lyrics great. She deserves a hit song.”

  Tristan grinned when he heard a thud against the door he closed behind him as he left their office. The string of muffed cuss words, both in Portuguese and English, made him laugh out loud.

  Noah had been bitten by the love bug, and Tristan was going to have a blast watching his friend deal with the itch.

  Meanwhile, Tristan had his own heart issues to sort out. Dr. Tucci’s words had been playing in his mind like a broken record for the past few days. The guy was right about Tristan being stuck in a quagmire. He had to move on, but he had been avoiding it. The first step would be painful, embarrassing even, and he didn’t know how to approach it.

  The damn shrink wouldn’t give him suggestions on the how-to part. He merely raised questions and told Tristan to find the answers.

  Yeah, right. Look how that has turned out for me in the past fifteen years.

  A swarm of angry butterflies made him queasy as the elevator ate up the floors and the numbers increased in the digital display. They went wild as her floor number tinkled and the doors pinged open. Pushing himself off the back wall before the damn doors closed again, Tristan stumbled out of the metal cage.

  Guilty over his own stupidity, and shame over his past behavior, weighed down his feet, but he dragged them to her door.

  Then, he stood there like a fucking lamppost in broad daylight. Useless. Just staring at her door as if the gray wooden rectangle was about to reveal the secrets of the universe to him.

  Dr. Tucci had turned him into a quivering pile of weak nerves. He mentally kicked himself in the sheen and rang the doorbell.

  Nothing. Not a sound.

  It’s fucking one in the morning. What did I expect? If she is in, she must be asleep. The living room light was on. But, maybe she forgot to turn it off.

  He was about to turn tail when light footsteps approached. The sound didn’t comfort him. On the contrary. She reached the door, but did not open it. He fidgeted with the leaves of a lush fern in a vase by her door, while he considered his options.

  He bet she had checked the peephole. She must have. That would be the smart thing to do if you weren’t expecting visitors and the doorbell rang in the middle of the night.

  Maybe she was too mad at him and didn’t want to talk.

  She was entitled to that. He had vanished without a word. It had been weeks since they last talked, and he hadn’t called or texted her.

  The butterflies flapped about in his stomach when the loud click of the metal safety pin echoed in the silent corridor as she slid it before unlocking the door.

  “Hey,” Bruna greeted him, holding the door wide open.

  “Sorry to call on you this late. I noticed your light was on; otherwise, I wouldn’t have. May I come in? It won’t take long. Promise.”

  She gestured for him to follow her. “Why so formal? It’s me you’re talking to, T.”

  Taking a chair facing Bruna’s spot on the couch, he blurted out, “You know my life turned on its head a couple of weeks ago with Izzie’s arrival. The doctors are running tests to determine if I’m a compatible donor. If so, I’ll go back to the United States for the surgery and should stay for a few months. I wanted to tell you that myself before you heard it from Noah or somebody else.”

  “Considering I’m a regular at the bistro, thank you for the consideration. I do appreciate it. As for you donating a kidney, I knew you’d make the right decision. You might be Arthur’s only chance.” Tristan wasn’t surprised Bruna knew that part about his son. One of Bruna’s best friends, an American reporter, had just moved to Florianópolis. Vanessa had been hanging out with Noah and his entourage since she came to town and news tended to travel fast. Bruna added, “I’m sure that will also bring you and Izzie close together again. Maybe you’ll finally forgive her?”

  That was the million-dollar question to which Tristan had no clue how to reply. Would he ever forgive Izzie? Could he forgive her, not for the betrayal that never happened, but for hiding Arthur from him?

  Tristan heard himself answering Bruna’s question as if someone else was speaking. “I never thought that would be possible after the way Izzie leveled my life fifteen years ago. Over these past weeks, I’m beginning to change my mind.” He shrugged. “We’ll see how that plays out, though.”

  Bruna smiled. “I’m sure you guys will patch things up.”

  Tristan returned her smile with a broad grin, the weight he had been carrying in his chest lifted, and he breathed free again. Funny how sometimes talking to friends worked out. Bruna hadn’t offered advice, or given him the secret recipe for happiness. The fact that she listened to him gave Tristan a chance to put into words his innermost feelings. Those he had buried in the deepest dungeons of his subconscious. He shrugged again and stood up from the chair. “I’d better get going. Goodnight, beautiful.”

  The endearment rolled off his tongue naturally. No hidden agenda, no second intentions.

  She walked him to the door. “I hope Izzie knows how lucky she is. You’re quite a catch.”

  He cupped her cheek and kissed the other. “Right back at you. You’re one in a million. Hope you meet your better half soon. You deserve to be happy.”

  With a last wave, he climbed the stairs to his floor, whistling a melody that had been playing in his head. He wished he had time to compose, though. The damn song would not leave him alone until he wrote it down.

  His Muse would have to start cultivating her patience.

  Later that day, as Tristan waited for Izzie to get out of the restroom, he paced his spacious living room, then stopped at the glass door that opened to the balcony. He didn’t step out, his gaze glued to the mass of green-gray water that formed the North Bay, across from Beria-Mar Norte Avenue. The gentle sway of the waves lulled his mind as usual.

  Could it be that everyone was right? Did Noah, Bruna, his mom and Dr. Tucci know his feelings better than himself? Was he holding on to old grudges for fear of what the future might bring? He had always thought he was living in hell for the past fifteen years. The way they saw his situation, he was snug inside his little comfort zone, refusing to venture out of it. Did he do that?

  Truth was that recently, every time he met Izzie, Tristan noticed his numbness got lighter as the fortress of ice he had built around his heart melted an inch or so. Each day, he allowed her to get a little bit closer.

  He didn’t hear Izzie leave the restroom, so he jumped out of his skin at the sound of her raspy voice behind him. “He’s right here, sweetie.”

  Before he knew it, he was staring into Arthur’s smiling face on his mom’s cell phone screen. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “
Not much.”

  That wasn’t the first time they had a video call, but things were still awkward. Tristan was self-conscious and bet Arthur faced the same. Plus, gazing at Arthur’s face was like stepping into a time machine and landing at his mom’s house, when he was a teenager. If he had dyed his hair black back then. Except for Izzie’s hair color, Arthur King was the younger version of Tristan Knight.

  Uncanny.

  “How did it go at the hospital yesterday?” Tristan inquired.

  Arthur shrugged. “Same old. They hooked me up to the dialysis machine and after a couple of hours, the nurse came back and collected blood for the samples.”

  “Grandma Lilly goes through that three times a week, four hours each time. She tells me it feels like forty years.” Tristan was still getting used to calling his mom that. Arthur enjoyed hearing about the side of his family tree he didn’t know, so Tristan obliged.

  Arthur’s shoulders moved up and down in a quick shrug. “I don’t mind it anymore. I get to read a whole book each session. Sometimes more than one book. Yesterday, I didn’t finish mine, though. I got a little lightheaded, so I turned off my cell and rested my eyes.”

  Tristan’s stare cut to Izzie standing beside him, still holding her phone. He had to admit to himself that she had done a very good job on her own. He refocused on his son’s smiling face. “Does lightheadedness happen often? You say it like it wasn’t a big deal.” He chased the panic away from his voice, but wasn’t sure he succeeded.

  “Because it was not. Most times, I feel fine. Once in a while, something goes amiss. Not to worry.” Arthur paused, then added, “Dad.”

  Hearing his son utter that word still hit Tristan in the stomach like a left jab from a fucking heavy-weight champion.

  It stole his breath away.

  Unable to articulate, he nodded at his son.

  Izzie patted his back as she flicked her wrist and pointed the phone screen to her face. “Hey, listen, sweetie. I hate to let you go, but we’re running late here.” Tristan glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. They had plenty of time to get to his appointment. “I need to drag your old man to the hospital. It seems he’s scared of needles like a little girl, so I go along to make sure he’ll let the doctors do their job.”

  “Hey!” He tried to snatch the phone from her hand, but the pixie blocked him.

  She hunched over, keeping the phone close to her body. Snorting, she blew kisses to their son. “Bye, sonny. See you very soon.”

  “What did you mean we’re running late? Did I get the time wrong?”

  Izzie eyeballed him, no reply.

  When her scrutiny made him uncomfortable, he mouthed, What?

  Her lips curved in a lazy smile. “You’re one of the smartest people I know yet you can be so dense sometimes. Watching you talk to Arthur was like watching you both cross a landmine field. I thought you could use an excuse to hang up.”

  Tristan shook his head as he held the front door open for her. He followed her down the corridor. As they waited for the elevator, he conceded, “I see why you did such a great job raising him. I had forgotten the keen people reader you are, always attentive to other people’s feelings and needs. I admire that in you. I never pick up on the signs.”

  Her smile quivered, and she exhaled a short sigh. Whatever sadness that crossed her mind, left as fast as it came on. She shrugged and replied, “Arthur was always an easy kid, so I’m not sure I can take all the credit myself. He’s got your quick mind and your hunger for knowledge.”

  They climbed in the elevator and Tristan pushed the garage button. “The little I’ve seen so far, he’s a great kid. He’s taking his ordeals quite well for somebody so young.”

  On the following day, Tristan had a rare free morning. He got up early and cooked breakfast. Noah emerged from his room as Tristan poured fresh brewed coffee in his travel mug.

  “Your coffee woke me.” He stretched his arms and scratched his belly, looking half asleep.

  “Rough night?”

  “Rough month is more like it.” Noah yawned, then tilted his head. “Going somewhere? I ask because you’ve filled up the mug, but you’re not all dressed up like you get nowadays when you go out with Izzie.”

  Tristan ate up the snark comebacks that popped up in his head. He wouldn’t bite Noah’s bait. “Going to visit mom.”

  “Right, right. Before you travel. That’s a good call. Listen, I’d love to tag along. Could you wait up?”

  “I don’t have much time, though. I’ve got to be at the hospital right after lunch.”

  He raised his voice as Noah dashed from the kitchen and dove into his bedroom.

  “Just a minute. Promise.” His muffled replied was followed my doors banging and drawers clicking as he apparently got dressed.

  Noah kept his word and returned before Tristan finished putting away the dishes from breakfast. He tossed a plastic bag toward Noah, who caught it in the air like a professional football player. “Thanks, bro.” Noah said, his mouth full of the cheese and ham sandwich Tristan had packed for him.

  “No problem.”

  The trip to the clinic was uneventful and they found Lilly in a great mood. It was too early in the morning, so she was still in bed. Tristan sat on it, while Noah plopped himself in an armchair nearby.

  “Izzie called Arthur, on that video app thingy, the other day when she visited. I felt like I was looking at you at fourteen,” Lilly said, squeezing the hand Tristan had placed over hers.

  “I know, right?”

  Noah snorted. “Hope the boy gets some of his mom’s talent because it seems he got the short end of the stick where beauty is concerned.”

  Tristan ignored the comment. “He’s a great kid, mom. Izzie has done a great job. I’m impressed.”

  Lilly nodded. “I’m not surprised. She’s a great people person. Just like this fellow here.” She tipped her head in Noah’s direction.

  “That he is. I don’t say it often enough, but I’m so glad I’ve got you in my corner, man.”

  “Whoa. Hold on a second there before you get all mushy on me. You’re beginning to sound like a man on his deathbed, dude. Snap out of it, will you?”

  “Noah’s got a good point. You’ll be fine, this kind of surgery isn’t a big deal nowadays. You’ll be back in action in a few weeks. And I expect to see your sorry ass back here in a couple of months. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, young man.”

  Tristan buried his face on his mom’s neck and held her tight. She had lost weight and her fragile frame scared the shit out of him, but he needed that hug like a man in a desert needs water. The warmth of her palms stroking his shoulders made him believe everything was going to turn out fine.

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, ma’am.” Tristan’s voice got muted by his mom’s hair.

  Noah’s hand clamped on Tristan’s shoulder and pried him away from Lilly. “Enough, enough. I want in on some of that sugar too.” He got between Lilly and Tristan. “Group hug!”

  “Silly man.” Lilly chuckled, when Noah stepped back. “You’re lucky I love you.”

  “Love you back,” Noah replied as he laced his fingers through hers. “Big T will be back in no time, but I’ll come visit you every other day. Promise.”

  “Thanks, man,” Tristan whispered. Air caught in his throat didn’t allow for more than that.

  “Not a problem,” Noah assured him, averting his stare.

  Tristan bet his friend was getting all mushy on him, but Noah would never admit it.

  His afternoon appointment for another ECG went well. Then, then the nurses collected samples of bodily fluids to run multiple tests. Izzie stood by his side through the whole thing. They got back to her hotel around six in the evening.

  When he parked in the underground garage, Izzie turned to him and said, “You’ve had an intense day, I bet you’re exhausted, but you should eat something before heading home. I mean, you live on the next block, so you’d still be home quickly. Plus,
I didn’t see much food in your fridge yesterday and I doubt Noah went grocery shopping today. Would you like to grab something quick before you go?”

  Tristan hesitated. Izzie was becoming a fixture in his new life. Despite his recent soul searching, and everyone telling him he still had feelings for her, he hadn’t made up his mind about the subject. He definitely didn’t enjoy the uncertainty. He’d better nip it in the bud.

  “Sounds good. Then, we can discuss traveling arrangements.”

  What?! Where the hell did this come from? He mentally slapped his forehead, when his mouth ran away like a fucking freight train.

  “Awesome.”

  He wondered if his imagination was tricking him. He could have sworn Izzie agreed to his plan too fast. Either way, they ambled to the elevator and once in, he reached out to press the button and realized he didn’t know which one. “What floor to the restaurant?”

  She swiped a keycard and pressed the penthouse button. “Know what? We should order room service. We’re tired and I don’t feel like meeting people. I love fans, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t want to put on a happy face tonight.”

  For a moment, Tristan felt like he was walking into a trap, but he shook off his suspicions. She made sense. It was his mistrust of Izzie that was getting to him. Plus, the exhaustion, not to mention hunger. The tests had to be run on an empty stomach. He was starving. As if on cue, his stomach growled as she opened the door to an elegant sitting room, decorated with contemporary furniture. Dark brown and cream dominated the room on the walls as well as couch, chairs and tables, complemented by strokes and splashes of vibrant yellows, reds, and blues in the form of paintings, cushions and lamps.

  “Sounds like you’re ready to order.” Laughing, Izzie handed him the phone that was nestled in its cradle on a side table. “Would you call room service while I jump in the shower? There’s a guest room with a bathroom through that door on the left. Feel free to use it. I’ll be really quick. Promise.”

  Most places in the city didn’t have climate control systems, which meant temperatures were similar inside and outside buildings. In the summer, that made people sweaty and uncomfortable, with even the locals complaining about the heat. Tristan ordered the food and took Izzie up on her offer to use the shower since the meal wouldn’t arrive for another half hour.