“Hey, she refused to show me the video she took on her phone. You should take that as a true sign of allegiance in the woman you’re going to marry.

Bael frowned. “I didn’t know there was a video.”

“So show me the ring,” Zed insisted.

Bael turned his back toward his lady love—and Mel—to keep her from seeing him open a little jewelry box to show him a very respectable solitaire set in a gold band that looked like dragon scales. Zed clapped his hand on Bael’s shoulders. “That’s a beauty. She’ll love it.”

“I had Australian opals, Columbian emeralds, pearls from Atlantis. Nothing felt right. So I took a bunch of copies of her report, burned it with dragon fire. And then I took the ashes to this lab in New Orleans and had them compressed into a diamond.”

The delighted grin abandoned Zed’s face. “You burned her life’s work?”

Bael pursed his lips. “Is that bad? I thought it would be romantic, because her work is what brought us together. And it was only copies.”

“It’s a calculated risk. I’ll keep my couch free for you, just in case,” Zed told him. “You realize when she hears you talked to Mel to ask permission to marry her, she’s going to hit you with a stick. Because feminism.”

“I didn’t say I was asking for permission,” Bael insisted. “I am asking for his blessing, big difference. I know my woman.”

“Well, I’m happy for you. Even if it will leave you with even less time to see me.”

“Right because that’s what this is about. Your feelings,” said Bael.

“I would make that whip-lash noise again, but we’re getting close to her and Jillian might hear me.”

Bael nodded. “Good call.”

Zed spent the next few hours eating his neighbors’ culinary offerings and trying to hold conversations with people who did homework for a living. The usual after-dinner tradition of dancing had been done away with on Jillian’s advice. She’d told Clarissa and Zed that bookish colleagues would be much more comfortable with just sitting and chatting.

In the spirit of good sportsmanship, Zed re-introduced himself to Rob Aspern, PhD, whose name was not, in fact, Dr. Assface. And Zed felt a little bad for his assumed dialogue painting Dr. Aspern as a latte-loving douche. He seemed like a nice enough guy. Zed just wanted him separated from Dani by about three parishes. And an ocean. Full of sharks.

He lost track of her a few times as she milled about the crowd. But after most everybody was full and lulled into quiet, happy after-supper conversation, Dani approached their table with a beer in her hand and an empty pie plate. Zed was quick to hop up and make room for her, which immediately caught the attention of his maman.