His eyebrows quirked, apparently deciding to leave her last comment alone. “Yeah, I grew up down the block from John and Estrella. In that red town house down there.”

“It seems like everyone knows each other on this block.”

“Oh, yeah. One big family.”

Mary thought she detected just a trace of sarcasm in his tone but couldn’t think of how to ask about it. “Think you’ll play any of the games?” Mary asked, nodding her head over to where little girls were challenging one another in double Dutch, a basketball hoop was set up, and three full-grown men were each attempting to blow the largest soap bubble they possibly could.

“You happen to be standing next to the Lincoln Place hopscotch champ seven years running.” Samuel blew on his fingernails and shined them on his T-shirt.

Mary laughed at the teasing glint in his eyes. “I wasn’t aware I was in the presence of greatness.”

“Sammy,” a distinct voice said from behind her. “Your aunt is looking for you. She said your wife is on the phone.”

Samuel grimaced, glancing quickly at Mary and then away. “Ex, John. Ex-wife.”

“Oh, is it official now?” John asked blandly, taking a sip of the beer he held in his hand as he came to stand next to Mary. He let his cold eyes wander the crowd.

“Mary, I’ll be right back,” Samuel said, taking a few steps backward. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

Mary sighed as she watched him disappear into the crowd. “Is his wife really on the phone?” she asked John, one eyebrow raised.

John shrugged, unrepentant, bored. “You mentioned that you had a problem with married guys shooting their shot with you. I thought I’d help you out.”

Mary was quiet as she stood shoulder to shoulder with John, watching two kids with water guns chase each other down the street, their mothers hollering after them. The line for the buffet table was three people wide and five sidewalk squares long. Loud, tinny music played from speakers jammed against the screen of someone’s open windows. Across the way, Estrella laughed and leaned her head onto the shoulder of a humongous redheaded man.

Mary’s grape punch was down to just pointy shards of melting ice. She stared into the bottom of her glass. She liked going to parties by herself. Of course, she’d never had a problem with that. But she really, really liked going to a party with a date. Maybe it made her old-fashioned, but she liked having someone who cared about whether or not her drink was full.

“So,” John said, reminding her that he still stood on the curb next to her. “You’re, like, really desperate for dates or something?”

“Okay, then,” Mary said crisply, turning on her heel and marching away from John. A white sheet of blank disbelief had fallen over her, snuffing out her party glow. What an ass.