Axel’s grin was pure wickedness. “And how do ya know I haven’t already been monkeyin’ with ’em myself?”

“You wouldn’t?”

He lifted both eyebrows. A playful Oh, wouldn’t I? conveyed without a word.

Lizzy rolled her eyes and zigzagged her attention between the women. “God save me. I’ve got four more months on tour and a new album to cut after that, and he’s hinting at kids.”

And that was how it went through the salads and most of the entrees. Lighthearted jabs or witty comments shared from those listening. Questions asked and answered. Laughter that ranged from easygoing to all out hilarity.

Absolutely nothing like the scenarios she’d imagined.

Kir had been right. They were a family. Not the blood-linked kind that suffered through a Father’s Day dinner because they had to, but people who came together and genuinely communed because they wanted to. Because they enjoyed everyone’s company.

The experience was exceptional. On par with the one-on-one time she spent with her aunt but had never experienced with anyone else.

And wasn’t that sad, considering she had a family of her own? Dinners with her parents and brother were brief. Rigorous in manners and filled only with professional chatter carried on politely modulated voices. Honestly, she’d reported on town council meetings with more personality and warmth than meals with her family.

Tears stung her eyes, and a sharp discomfort nudged her heart.

Oh, no, Cassie. You will not cry. Not here. Not now.

“So, Cassie,” Evette said. “How’d you end up as a fancy TV news reporter?”

Cassie ducked her head and smoothed her napkin across her lap to buy herself a little time. Her first words were a little rough, but by the time she lifted her head and finished her answer, she’d shaken most of her melancholy. “It was an accident, really. I started photography in high school and a friend who worked on the school paper asked me to take some pictures for her. The process seemed fun, so I tried it for myself and ended up I had a knack for it.”

“Yeah, but that’s newspaper, not TV,” Emerson said. “How’d you end up there?”

“That happened in college. I was one year in and planning on sticking with the newspaper routine with a Bachelor of Arts in Journalism, but my aunt Frieda said I’d be shooting myself in the foot if I didn’t shift to television.”

“Good girl,” Dorothy said. “You listened to your auntie.”

Cassie chuckled. “Not exactly. Not at first, anyway. She basically ended up daring me to go for an internship at a Houston television station. I think we were both surprised when I got it.”

“You’re very good at it,” Sergei said. “Natural. People respond to you.”

Goose bumps lifted along her forearms, and for some stupid reason, the urge to sit up a little taller tugged at her spine. “Thank you.”

“Do you still do photography, too?” Lizzy asked. “Axel’s gone through about fifteen different people so far trying to get good shots of the band in action and hasn’t settled on one yet.”