“Likes he’s stolen everything else,” Ming mutters.

The heavy silence falls over us again.

“Oh, good! You are in here. Gales!”

I turn at the unexpected voice to find Chloe at the open door. She charges toward our booth, and I rise to meet her. Gales follows her in, carrying mimosa pitcher number three, and closes the door behind him.

“Ohmigod.” She wraps me in a hug. “Are you okay?” She holds me at arm’s length, eyes narrowed. “Are we plotting revenge? We’re here to plot revenge, right?”

Gales adds his pitcher to the table, then hugs me, too. “You hanging in there, Lizard?”

“It’s been a weird morning,” I say, though their sudden appearance is adding to the surreality. “What are you two doing here?”

“You’re family!” Chloe slides into the booth beside Ming, and everyone shifts to make room for the new arrivals. “And Jane’s one of my favorite people. Plus, Ming let me set her lashes last night. That’s a sacred act of bonding.”

Ming drops her head to Chloe’s shoulder. “We’re basically married.”

“Hey,” Gales protests, but he’s smiling, and sits beside his erstwhile fiancée.

Ming waggles her eyebrows. “I’d be happy to share.”

I grab a chair from the long dining table behind me, pulling it to the head of the table we’re gathered around. “But how did you know to come here?”

“That was me,” Charles says, hand half-raised. “I sent him a text. We had coffee with Darcy yesterday afternoon.”

Gales sighs, sinking against the dark leather, and Chloe puts a hand over one of his. “We had a theoretical stake in the plan, too.”

I cock my head. “How’s that?”

Chloe taps her teeth together, like she’s priming her jaw for a confession. “We’re considering a move. That’s why we’re out here this week. My gigs were a trial run for something long-term.”

“What?” A tentative spark of happiness warms in my chest. “You’re coming here?”

“Nothing’s been decided,” Chloe says quickly. “I’m not sure how much time I’d want to commit to the job here, how much I’d still freelance. But . . . yeah.” She fights a smile. “It’s huge.”

“So, I’ve been looking into kitchens,” says Gales. “Mostly sous positions. But at coffee yesterday, Charles and I got to talking. Charles needed a chef, and I had some thoughts for a menu.” He half-smiles. “It went well.”

I arch a brow at Charles.

“Darcy’s doing, mostly. I think he made a point of steering the conversation. But Gales had a bunch of ideas,” he says, tipping his head toward his would-be employee. “I spoke to his chef in LA and he agreed: this guy is going places.”