He didn’t know if her pretend calm made him feel better, or worse. Not only did she not trust him, but she didn’t even care about what she’d found.
Then again, maybe if you were having a run-of-the-mill fling, you didn’t much care about the past. Or the future. There was no way he could confront her—not when they didn’t owe each other a thing.
Blake tried to push his discomfort aside. Dinner. That was all he needed to worry about. That was all they could really expect from each other. No plans beyond the next meal. He exhaled, trying to make himself relax.
There were so many good restaurants in Rio, from French to Italian to traditional steaming black bean feijoada and elaborate churrascarias with enormous slabs of meat cut right at the table for diners to choose. When Blake asked Julia what she was in the mood for and she promptly answered seafood, he knew what to try.
They went back to the hotel to change and then hopped a cab to Ipanema, a long crescent of pale sand that ended in two tall peaks on its far end. The day was winding down and the light sent long shadows along the shore as the water turned a deeper blue. That wasn’t stopping any of the beachgoers from enjoying the last rays of color and the ocean breeze, even as the bars and restaurants along the strip were starting to light up.
The place Blake had in mind was quiet and out of the main fray, but it had gotten rave reviews. They were early enough to get a seat outside on the terrace and ordered a bottle of Portuguese vinho verde recommended by the waiter. It arrived crisp and chilled, and Blake smiled at the intensity with which Julia held his eye as they clinked their glasses, taking seriously Chris’s admonition not to tempt fate and risk bad sex.
Blake knew Julia didn’t think the superstition was anything but funny, but on the off chance that it was actually true, he hoped it only applied to the person you were locking eyes with. The thought of Julia having seven years of knock-out sex with somebody else left a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the wine, which was fresh and acidic and slightly effervescent, ideal after a long day walking in the heat.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling a heaviness steal over him as he watched her lean back in her seat, fingering the condensation on the sides of her glass. Was she even going to tell him what she’d done?
“This is perfect,” she sighed, looking out at the water through the palm trees lining the walkway down to the beach.
Well, that answered his question, at least. It looked like avoidance was going to be the strategy of the evening. Blake was just going to have to learn to keep up.
They ordered a grilled hearts of palm salad as an appetizer and a chilled pumpkin soup with prawns and the hint of something spicy—cayenne, to balance the saffron threads?—that made the whole dish come alive.
“When I first came to Brazil, I was in the Amazon,” Blake said between bites. “All I ate was the most basic fried fish and grilled meat from those ubiquitous food stalls.”
“And pineapple juice?” Julia winked.
“And pineapples.” He laughed. “And then I got to Manaus—that’s the major city plunked down in the middle of the rainforest—and it was like I’d never seen food before. I had no idea Brazil was known for its cuisine, you know?”
Julia nodded as Blake remembered his first bite of the thick, smoky feijoada that was Brazil’s national dish.
“I may have imagined that I’d be spending my vacation sipping cocktails on the beach, but I never thought it would be quite this nice.” Julia swirled the light, straw-colored wine in her glass and took another sip before spearing one of the palm hearts with her fork, mopping up the cilantro and lime vinaigrette.
“I can assure you that my other travels have definitely not been like this.”
“Tell me more about where else you’ve been.”
“Tell me why you Googled me.”
He had meant to keep quiet about it, but half a glass of wine later the words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was going to say them. A request to match her request. A challenge for more information to balance out the information she’d gained.
Her eyes grew wide and she paused mid-breath, suddenly at a loss for words. Then she smacked her forehead. “The search history?”
“Bingo.”
“I’m not a very good sleuth.”
“No.”
The blush on her face was the deepest he’d seen. But there was no attempt to cover anything up or act like she’d done nothing wrong. Just embarrassment, pure and simple.
“I was chatting with my friend Liz and I told her about you. I’m sorry, should I not have? I didn’t know. But,” she laughed and gestured around her. “How could I not?”
“And then you said…?” he prodded, his stomach in knots.
“And then I admitted to her that I didn’t really know that much about you.” Julia put her glass down. “That I don’t know that much about you.” She changed her tense emphatically, stressing all that still remained unsaid between them.
He put his glass down on the table louder than he’d planned. “And you couldn’t, for instance, ask whatever it was that you were so desperate to find out?”
Julia jumped, looking startled at his tone. “It wasn’t like I set about to go snooping on you.”
“But that’s exactly what you did,” he pressed, aware of his voice rising in the restaurant. How could she not see what she’d done?
She bit her lip. “Look, you’re making too big deal out of this. I honestly wasn’t even going to say anything.”
His fork clattered on the table. “Well then I’m glad my whole life isn’t a big deal to you.”
Julia looked stunned and for a moment Blake regretted his words. But the flash of all those cameras on him still stung. How could he be on the front page of the tabloids and at the same time not matter at all?
“You know that’s not what I meant,” she said quietly, clutching her glass and looking away.
Blake sighed. Suddenly he felt exhausted. What did it matter? They barely even had two more days. “Look, let’s forget it. Forget I found out, it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“I didn’t think it was a problem,” she said. “But obviously it was, and I’m sorry.”
“I just wish you would’ve asked me directly, instead.”
“Ask you what?” She threw her hands up on the air. “I barely know anything about you. You’re completely vague on whatever you do say about your life, and I’m sorry but it didn’t occur to me to check in with you beforehand about whether you were a famous TV writer who’d gotten completely screwed. I didn’t think it was my business.” She paused, then added, “I still don’t.”
Blake opened his mouth, then closed it again. That was what she thought—that he had been screwed? Not that he had it coming to him? In the scandal and gossip of Australia’s celebrity world, public opinion had determined there was something wrong with him for not holding on to his star. But here it was like Julia cared but also didn’t, and Blake didn’t know whether it made them closer or further apart to know that she’d seen this side of his life and basically shrugged.
“So what did you tell Liz?” He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but he still had to ask.
He was surprised to see Julia laugh. “I mentioned that I’d met someone, and Liz said—okay, first you have to understand that she’s Liz. She’s been my best friend since kindergarten and we’ve been through everything together. It made her life to know that I was having a good time.”
No, Blake had to revise his earlier assessment. Now she was sporting the deepest blush he’d ever seen on her. It made something bubble through his insides, cutting through his anger. She was having a good time?