“Boys, come in, come in. I didn’t invite you this time because you’re always so terribly busy with your murderers and your prisons and your guns, but you absolutely have to come in. Right. This. Instant.” He whirled away without waiting for an answer and over his shoulder called, “North, you look absolutely terrible. As usual.”

That was Teddi. At some point, Teddi had probably been Teddy. And before that, he’d probably been a Ted. Maybe even a Theodore. But for as long as North had known him—senior year, an invitation to one of Teddi’s (in)famous brunches courtesy of Shaw—he had been Teddi. With an i. A very loud i that you couldn’t possibly miss.

“This was your idea,” Shaw said, massaging his temple as they stepped into the foyer. From deeper in the house came the clink of glasses, the swell of conversation, and then peal after peal of Teddi’s high-pitched laughter. “Can I please stay in the van?”

“I’ll keep an eye on Regina. She won’t get you alone.”

Shaw swallowed. “I wonder if Teddi has any Alka-Seltzer.”

“Yeah, probably put it out with the buffet.”

“Really? That seems like—oh.”

“Shaw?” A look of terror invaded Shaw’s face, and North knew it had to do with how their last conversation had ended. North felt bad about that, but he wasn’t willing to get into a whole long thing about it. He settled for: “I’m going to have a mimosa. Or a bellini. Or whatever Teddi has. And you are going to have?”

Shaw actually shuddered. “Tea.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Maybe licorice root tea.”

North started toward the back of the house, where Teddi’s brunch occupied a kitchen and living space combination. “Licorice root tea seems like a reach. We’re not at Teavana.”

“Actually, North, maybe you should have some licorice root tea too. It’s very soothing, and—”

“Do I need to be soothed?”

“Well, Pari did throw a plate at your head. And you were doing a lot of stomping. And I know you gave up smoking, which used to be your go-to for stress, but I kind of smell—”

“Let’s split up.”

Snagging a bellini—Christ, North thought, fighting a surprised cough after his first sip, had Teddi stopped even pretending to put peach into these?—and then, a second thought, which was to make sure Shaw didn’t so much as breathe near the drinks because he’d likely get totally smashed just from the fumes—North moved across the room toward Teddi, who was holding court in the breakfast nook.

As North moved, he took in the array of guests. Even on a Friday at mid-morning, Teddi always had people in his house. In the living room were Teddi’s standards: Regina Rex, drag queen extraordinaire, who probably hadn’t been home to sleep yet; Peter and Paul, who had gone to college with North and Shaw and had made some kind of tech fortune and were annoyingly gracious whenever Shaw dragged North to dinner or drinks with them—No, really, let us; Cassie Katzenstein, who looked like a Halloween mask after the last round of getting her eyes done, and her husband Eddie—he did something in stocks, which meant they lived on a whole floor of their own at the Chase, and Cassie spent most of her day sweating and stretching and toning and most of her nights spending Eddie’s money. Eddie was sitting slightly off by himself staring at one of Teddi’s throw pillows, and the throw pillow looked like it was the one with more personality.