“I will say, he is a different kind of chef than you and Henry are. You both seem to whip up whatever is around. Elliott is a little picky. He wants a certain kind of ingredient and nothing else will do. He may spend a truckload of money on truffles or green cardamom, but from your samples, I think you can tell it’s worth it. He’s a bit of a perfectionist.”

“I’ll bet. I would hate to pay his bills. And did you get a look at his sport coat?”

“That came from an upscale consignment store,” slipped out. I blamed it on that second sidecar. But Griffin said nothing. He was not going to spoil my night.

He met my roommates and liked them immediately. They exchanged looks with each other and then looked at me. Then at Griffin. I had no idea what they were trying to tell me. “Lady World,” I said, which was their cue that I had no idea what they were thinking.

Elle had consumed just enough cocktails to answer honestly: “I’m glad we finally got to meet the famous brother last week and now the equally famous Griffin. Little Bailey here did not tell us you were so good-looking.”

It was Reggie’s turn. “She talks about you all the time. It’s nice to see the missing puzzle pieces of Bailey’s life. Elle is right, she talks about how talented you all are, but she never mentioned your handsome looks before.”

I was getting embarrassed. “Y’all are drunk. I am cutting you off … ”

“I think I like talking to these wonderful ladies who obviously have good taste,” Griffin piped up. They were having fun at my expense, and I was having a blast. I loved having the people I loved enjoy each other.

When the crowds thinned out, and closing time approached, it was clear we had had a good night. Elliott seemed somewhat taken aback when I left with Griffin. I wanted to get Griffin’s feedback. I needed his feedback. I figured there would be time and many chances for Elliott and me to sit down and replay the night’s events. Elliott was quiet as he watched us leave together.

We passed the front desk and concierge station before taking the elevator to Griffin’s room. I was exhausted. Last week after the soft open, I could’ve stayed awake all night on pure adrenaline. But tonight, with the grand opening, I had nothing left. The room did not boast two beds, just a king-size bed that was terribly inviting. I didn’t care.

“In that big Mary Poppins satchel of yours, do you have something to sleep in?” Griffin asked. He had always mocked my big bags. He would have looked utterly confused if I announced my overstuffed satchel to be “on fleek.”

I pulled out a half bottle of Fiji water, a can of LaCroix, a notebook, a decorator’s binder of fabric samples I had forgotten to return, my wallet bulging with credit cards and cash, ChapStick, lipstick, lip gloss, several pens, a couple of knobs, mascara, Neosporin, my phone and charger, and, at the bottom of my bag, I fingered the shirt.