Page 41 of Our Last Resort

“I saw him just now. Outside.”

“But he was—”

I motion for us to sit. Gabriel looks down at his plate. Saffron risotto, looks like. Next to it, some kind of mixed drink—a mocktail, I assume. Gabriel doesn’t drink. Per my count, he’s been sober for eight years.

“Are you sure it was him?” Gabriel asks.

“I saw his face.”

“But—”

He picks up his fork. As he’s about to take a bite, the hum of conversation stops.

I turn in my chair.

There he is.

William Brenner makes his way across the room in complete silence.

Confident, unbothered by our ogling, he takes his usual seat at his usual table. He raises a hand, and a waiter materializes athis side. We’re still gawking by the time the sommelier returns with a bottle of red wine.

The popping cork snaps us out of our collective daze.

People turn back to their plates. I untwist and face Gabriel. He’s squirming in his seat, trying to look over my shoulder.

“Don’t stare,” I say through clenched teeth.

“What is he doing?”

Reluctantly, I swivel to take another look. William is holding his phone, raising it with his left hand, tapping at the screen with his right.

The little squint, the faux casual waving of the phone: I know what he’s doing. We’ve all been there. The fake selfies to snap a celebrity three tables away at a restaurant, the secret shot of a stranger’s purse to investigate the brand and model.

I picture the dining room sweeping across his screen. He gives the phone a couple more taps before settling on his target.

It’s us.

William Brenner is pointing his phone camera at our table. He’s probably already taken a couple of shots and is treating himself to a few extras.

I whip around. Gabriel is looking down at the table, one hand on his forehead, trying to hide his face behind his arm.

“Let’s get out of here,” I whisper, pushing back my chair.

“Don’t,” he says without looking up. “The photo will be much better if we stand.”

He’s right.

But it’s torture to just sit here.

Gabriel gives my fingers a squeeze.Hold the line,he seems to say.This is what needs to happen. Sit and bear it. There is nothing else to do.

I’ve never experienced it with him before. The intrusion, the scrutiny.

We wait it out together.

After a few seconds, Gabriel’s hand relaxes around mine.

“Is he done?” I ask.

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