“And have my favorite stores inundated? No way,” I said with a smile. At this, Griffin interrupted.

“Ask her what her favorite vintage item is,” Griffin offered Annabel. I looked at him. I had just saved his ass, and he was feeding me to Annabel. I knew what he wanted me to say: a flannel shirt.

“Good question, Griffin. Bailey what is your favorite vintage item?”

“One that I bought? Or one that I already had?” Two could play this game.

“How about both?” Annabel asked.

“I bought a great Chloe off-the-shoulder silk blouse I just love. And a Lanvin evening clutch I bought for a song,” I said.

“And the vintage item you already had?”

Griffin moved in closer. He thought he knew what I was going to say.

“I would have to say my mother’s engagement ring and wedding band,” I smiled in utter delight and thrust my hand at Annabel. Griffin let out a big laugh. He was having fun.

It was as if the strain of the last year had finally lifted. My situation had taken its toll on him too. Annabel took out her camera and took a picture of the rings. She continued her questions.

“Is there anything you would like to do? A secret ambition?”

“I got this idea around New Year’s Eve last year. I would love for the guys to open a diner. A city café like my Daddy’s. The menu would be populated with old-school dishes like macaroni and cheese and then new-school dishes like lobster, capers, and grilled asparagus or reimagined spaghetti. Hell, menu planning is not my forte, but it is the boys’.” I didn’t tell them that it was on my wedding night when Elliott and I were eating in that greasy spoon diner that this first came to me. “I would opt out of the color wheel and call it Edgeworth’s. I would love to vision that restaurant.”

Griffin walked over and just looked at me and mouthed, “Really?” I smiled and nodded. He continued enjoying this banter.

“Wow, Bailey. It looks like you have projects out the wazoo, with Mac’s restaurant, the place in Chicago, and I know you want to get your hands on BLANC.” I’d told Annabel that in confidence. Griffin rolled his eyes in amusement.

“Griffin said he liked bananas Foster French toast after sex. What is your pleasure?” This time I laughed. The morning after our first time, I was the one who ate bananas Foster French toast that Griffin fixed.

“I’d have to say peanut butter on toasted brioche,” which was always Griffin’s go-to answer and what he had eaten that morning after our first time. We smiled at the revision of our shared memory.