It didn’t last for more than a few seconds, and if it had been between two different people, it might have even been platonic. But because it was Mary, John shivered against her. As brief as it had been, the corner of his mouth had touched the corner of hers. She wore mint ChapStick that he hoped he’d taste on his lips in the few moments before Gabriel led him through the pearly gates one day. He knew he’d surprised her because she was breathless when he pulled away, her eyes wide, her fingers tangled in the collar of his shirt.

“Hi,” he said, six inches from her mouth. The very same mouth his body was begging for him to lean down and taste.

“Hi,” she whispered, more air than word. Her thumb drew a circle in the stubble just under his chin and there was nothing in this entire bar but for Mary’s eyes. There might not have been anything in this entire world but for Mary’s eyes.

“Whoa,” he heard Richie say behind him.

He tore his eyes from Mary’s and acknowledged his friend.

“I take it you won your case,” Richie said.

“That I did.”

“Really? Is that the good news? Tell me about it!” Mary’s hand, still tangled in his collar, relaxed and slid down over his chest. She smoothed it around to his back, pulling him against where she sat on her barstool as the crowd behind him bore down on them. “Want some of my beer? Or should we get you one?”

John’s heart led a six-mile parade down the streets of Brooklyn. Because Mary was pulling him into her side, waving down Marissa to make sure he got a drink. And then she was gasping in joy and excitement as he explained about the case he’d just won. Richie bought another round, and they all toasted Hang Nguyen and her bright future. The bar got even more crowded, and John was practically pasted into Mary’s side.

“Save my seat,” she said to him, her lips at his ear as she slid down to go to the bathroom. John parked himself onto her barstool and swallowed down half his beer in one go as she evaporated into the crowd. Both Richie and Marissa made wide, pointed eye contact with John. Beth tactfully looked away, sipping from her beer innocently.

A few weeks ago, John might have been uncomfortable about the fact that his friends were watching him cuddle and flirt with Mary. But tonight? Nothing mattered tonight but making Mary smile. Nothing mattered but fanning the burning, liquid electricity in his gut. Regrets were not a concept he even vaguely understood right now.

He just shrugged at his friends, impulsively ordered another round for the group and laughed.