Knowing I’m possibly being set up, I dress for the barbecue with a little more effort than I might have put in otherwise. I flat-iron my hair, do my makeup, find the right necklace to go with my white gauze top and sage green linen skirt. I don’t know if this doctor is short or tall, so I play it safe and wear pretty flats. My toenails still look great from the Frenchy’s spa day, and as I look in the mirror I think I look okay.

No one would know about the pregnancy or the miscarriage. No one would know about Kai. Or Daniel.

I just look like an attractive woman going to a party at a friend’s house.

When I arrive, Philip is at the barbecue busy pulling tequila-marinated shrimp kebabs off the grill. He shouts for an extra hand to take the plate, and I oblige. But as I take the plate, another man reaches for it, too, and that’s how I’m introduced to the single doctor. James McKee is his name, and he’s a recent transplant from Texas.

“Can I get you something to drink?” James offers once he’s passed on the shrimp appetizers. “A glass of wine? A cocktail? I think they’re making mojitos in the kitchen.”

“Wine would be great.”

“Red or white?”

“Red, if it’s open.” Nervously, I stand by Anne’s new fountain—she just recently relandscaped the backyard—and wait for James to return.

Relax, I tell myself. Smile. Just be yourself. Anne and Philip wouldn’t be introducing you to someone they didn’t like.

James returns and hands me the goblet. “They’ve got some nice wine in there.”

“Anne and Philip are wine snobs,” I say with a smile. “Sadly, I’m one of those that know nothing about wine but like whatever I get to drink here.”

James laughs, tips his bottle of Heineken in my direction. “I’m with you. I don’t know much about wine, either, but I think I’ve got my beer sorted out.”

We stand there a moment, and I’m feeling even more awkward, so I make a stab at conversation. “You work with Philip?”

“Yes. I’ve just moved here from Baylor. Renting an apartment in Belltown.”

“How do you like it so far?”

“Weather’s amazing. I don’t know what people complain about.”

“You moved here in summer, didn’t you?”

“Late June, but there’s only been a couple days of rain in sixty-plus days.”

“We do have gorgeous summers. Fall is even nice. It’s the other seasons that get folks down.”

“Does the rain bother you?”

“Not usually, no.”

“But…?”

“This was a hard year.” I immediately tense. I wish I hadn’t said that and then grab the first possible topic I can think of. “Are you a Texas native?”

“No. From Colorado, originally.”