“I’m legal,” Bridget answers for me.

I survey what’s around Bridget that might get tossed in Elaine’s direction.

Elaine smiles. “So where’d you guys meet? How long have you been together?”

“We met at my club,” I answer, “and I haven’t kept count.”

“A few months? Half a year?”

“Less than that.”

Elaine arches a dramatically teased brow. “And you’ve invited her to Andrea’s wedding?”

“I think JD dared him to ask the first person he saw,” Bridget jokes.

“That’s so cute.” Elaine twirls her fingers into the hair at the base of my neck and leans toward Bridget. “You’re so lucky, you know. There’s always a ton of women throwing themselves at Darren.”

“I am lucky,” Bridget says sincerely.

Elaine drops her hand from my head to my thigh. “Darren is a good family friend. He’s like a nephew to me, so I have to make sure he’s in good hands. Are you still in high school?”

I take Elaine’s hand off my leg. “Bridget goes to Cal.”

“Oh, really? Why not Stanford? They’re not too far from each other.”

Elaine knows perfectly well that those are fighting words for some diehard Oskis.

But Bridget doesn’t seem ruffled. “I didn’t get into Stanford. But even if I did, I still might have chosen Cal.”

“Oh, that’s silly. Who would choose Cal over Stanford?”

Beneath the table, Elaine rubs her foot along my calf.

“Where did you go to college?” Bridget asks as we’re served the first course. “Or did you go to college?”

“I went to Yale. It’s even harder to get into than Stanford.”

“Is it?” I challenge.

“I’m sure you would have gotten into either.”

“I didn’t apply to Yale. And like Bridget, I didn’t get into Stanford.”

“Their loss.” She turns to Bridget. “So what are you studying?”

“Public health,” Bridget answers.

“How cute. What is that?”

“Elaine’s not familiar with a lot of majors,” I explain. “She majored in how-to-find-and-marry-rich. That’s why she went to an Ivy League school.”

Elaine fakes a laugh. “You’re so funny, Darren.”

Undaunted, Elaine continues to ask questions of Bridget, remarking “cute” every other sentence. I can’t wait for dinner to conclude. When Bridget goes to use the restroom before dessert is served, I turn to Elaine.

“Back off Bridget,” I tell her.

“My, my, we’re testy. Is she not putting out for you?” Elaine puts her hand on my thigh again. “I can— Ow!”

Still holding her wrist tightly, I put her hand on the table. It draws the attention of a few others.

I lean to whisper in Elaine’s ear. “Don’t sit next to us again.”

I get up from the table and wait for Bridget outside the ladies’ room.

“What’s up?” Bridget asks when she comes out and sees me.

“Don’t feel like dessert,” I answer.

“Okay. You want to sit by the pool?”

“Sure.”

We walk over and settle into a plush sofa before an open fire pit.

“So, how come you didn’t throw soda in Elaine’s face?” I ask.