She swipes me on my ass. “Don’t even think about it. I’m due on shift in seven minutes. And seven minutes with you just won’t do.” She steps into her shoes, pulls on her coat, and takes her water bottle from me. “Besides, you have a party to get to.”

We have some ground rules at work. We don’t speak when we’re on site unless we’re in the chalet. We don’t ignore each other, but we don’t chat, or say, “Honey, can you pick up some milk?” There’s no evidence of our personal relationship at work. But people know. I’ve told Hart. Rosey’s told the people she works with. It’s not a secret. But I’ve also told them Rosey doesn’t expect any special treatment.

The chalet is on the far edge of the resort, so we take the golf cart to the staff entrance. As usual, there’s no kiss goodbye, but as she gets off, she turns to me and says, “Have the night of your life. You deserve it.” She flashes me a smile and heads off to her shift.

I know she means it. She’s rooting for me every step of the way.

Members and potential members have been arriving all morning. I’ve been on site all day, shaking hands and smiling. There’s nothing more for me to do.

Cocktails are being served in the lounge in ten minutes. I head there so I’m the first to arrive. But as I take the steps down from the lobby, I see a group of people have beaten me here. Five guys I’d do anything for are sitting around one of the low tables by the window.

“Byron!” a woman’s voice says from behind me.

I turn. It’s Efa, Jules by her side.

“This place is so—it’s incredible. I don’t have the words. I want to move here.”

They pull me into a group hug and it feels like family. A pang of regret hits me in the belly. I wish Mary could be here. I haven’t been close to my sister since we were kids—since I left Star Falls and we started living separate lives. But having spent some time here and reclaimed this town, I think about her more often. I sent her an invitation to this weekend, but she couldn’t make it. Maybe she will another time.

Fisher’s the first of the group to hug me. Instead of cracking a joke—which is usually how Fisher greets me—he just whispers how proud of me he is. It hits me like a mallet, and I have to blink back tears.

“We wanted to ensure we were the first to your party,” Bennett says. “Nothing like standing in an empty room wondering if anyone’s going to show.”