“I feel like you should get some of the credit for the man-bun trend,” Maya said. “You were doing it before it became a pop culture phenomenon. Hey!” She lifted her hands in the air excitedly. “I’m going to do Richard III next year for the Anti-Festival. You would make a great Richard! You’re so broody! And your hair is perfect for the role. What do you say?”

Jake lifted a single eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Maya, ever the optimist, patted him on the shoulder. “Well, we don’t start rehearsals until August, so I have tons of time to work on you.”

“So you’re sticking with the gratuitous-murder-of-children theme, I see?” Law quipped. “Doesn’t Richard murder his nephews?”

“He murders everyone,” Maya said cheerfully.

Sawyer tuned them out and sipped his beer.

He could tell when Evie arrived before he saw her. Ever since their hotel room encounter, he’d had a strange, extrasensory ability to tell when she was near. Something happened to his neck. It felt like butterflies in his stomach. Except they were in his neck. Which made no sense, but there it was.

“Hi! Oh my gosh, what a storm!”

She had come from only two doors down, but she was wet. And cold, judging by the way she shivered as she sat down—next to him, because Jake had wordlessly moved one stool over when she arrived to free up the spot. What was up with that? He would find out later. For now he needed to get another question answered. “Why didn’t you wear a coat?”

Her brow furrowed. “The Mermaid is a ten-second walk from here.”

“And I suppose an umbrella is too much to ask for?”

She made a confused face. “The Mermaid is ten seconds from here.” She said it slower this time, like she was talking to a kid. Which annoyed him, but on the plus side, it made his neck butterflies settle down.

“It’s on.” Law aimed a remote at the TV above the bar and turned up the volume.

Sawyer shrugged off his coat and slung it over Evie’s shoulders even though he knew his so-called friends would take note and store it up for whenever they had their next little bro-intervention planned.

“Ben! Can you fix this one, too?”

It was Eiko. She and her husband were sitting at a table with Pearl, Karl, Art, Jamila, and Carol Dyson from the salon. They were clustered near one of the other TV sets across the room. In fact, pretty much everyone who was in the bar tonight was here for the big event.

Sawyer smiled into his beer. This town and its inhabitants might drive him crazy sometimes, but they turned out when it mattered.

“Where’s the star of the show tonight?” Karl shouted from across the room.

“She’s watching it with her friends,” he called back. “I wasn’t invited.”