Emma and I both laughed at his question. But he didn’t look like he was letting it go. My grandfather, unlike my father, hadn’t batted an eye when I came out in high school. He’d also proved to be a surprisingly good relationship advisor on the rare occasion when it had come to that.

I played with some kind of salmon mousse and toast canapé I’d snagged from a tray, as I came up with an answer. “I wouldn’t say trouble, more like self-imposed angst. I’ve been trying too hard with someone who doesn’t seem to be very interested in me.”

Despite the pile of evidence I had to support my statement, the words sounded like lies. I thought about this morning and the intensity with which Patrice had touched me. His eyes and hands so focused on my body. It hadn’t felt like disinterest. It felt like need.

I turned to Emma, who was examining my face as if figuring out a math problem. “What’s with the face?” I asked.

“I just haven’t seen you this wistful in a long time. Now I really do need to meet him.” Emma and I were only two years apart, so we had a lot of the same friends and knew a lot, too much really, of each other’s dating history.

I lifted a shoulder and was about to say something to redirect the conversation when I saw my mother headed for us. She was looking picture-perfect in a navy knit dress and Gucci boots, her hair and make-up immaculate. We exchanged air kisses and she did the compulsory rundown of what I was wearing, in case I had missed the mark on the dress code indicated in her invitation. She seemed to approve of my semi-formal ensemble.

“Easton, darling. Your dad didn’t say if you confirmed. I was so busy this morning with last-minute fires to put out I didn’t have time to check. And yesterday we barely had any chance to talk.” I’d ended up bailing on her after only thirty minutes at the Fall Wine Festival. I’d felt bad, but left after some work stuff came up. My mother didn’t have the same degree of loathing for my job my father did, but she wasn’t throwing the DA’s office any fundraisers either. The only time she’d come to my office, the seventies wall paper and bad carpeting had her practically in tears.

“Sorry I left you hanging, Mom.” She gave me a tight smile, then looked down at my grandpa with a fond one. “I made do. I only stayed for a few more minutes and came home and watched a movie with Grandpa. Your dad is always so busy at those things, it’s best to let him work without interfering.”