“Yeah, if I ever meet him. The night’s going to be over before he comes. He better be worth all of this waiting.”

“Chicho, you sound like my mom. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”

“You know Hot Boy’s not coming,” LeDeya said as she neared the girls.

“What are you talking about, Deya?”

“I saw the message come through on your phone.”

Liza opened up her tiny clutch to find only her lipstick and a Ziploc bag, just in case the buffet was legit. She must have left her phone with Janae. She sighed. “Okay, fine, let’s just enjoy the night.”

Disappointed, Liza tried to settle into the evening and enjoy herself. She saw David take Janae all around the room to meet his friends. Good for Janae. He was just the type of man she needed. She saw the robin’s-egg blue box sitting prettily at her assigned seat. She already knew she couldn’t accept whatever this was. A Tiffany necklace? Liza felt a little let down. Ostentatious gifts like this really weren’t her style. It felt like it was out of some rich-guy playbook.

Liza’s belly jumped when she heard his soft baritone behind her. “Liza. I’d like to introduce you to Gigi, my sister. Gigi’s getting her MBA at Wharton.” Dorsey took a half step back.

“In a sprint to build a better mousetrap, eh?” Liza smiled.

Liza, what the hell are you saying?

“Something like that.” The young woman seemed embarrassed. She fanned her eyes and Liza realized she looked like she might cry. Was the joke that bad?

“Gigi, Liza is—” Dorsey started but was interrupted by Gigi wrapping her arms around Liza—cutting off her breath.

“I am just so . . . Wow! You look like you have a filter on. You are really . . .” Gigi said.

The girl couldn’t seem to string together a full sentence. Liza didn’t know how to respond to any of these half thoughts. Not that she could, as Gigi’s embrace threatened to produce a real-life faint. Liza took in a short breath, and Dorsey pulled his little sister to a respectable distance.

“It is truly an honor to meet you, Liza. Dorsey just goes on and—” She stopped abruptly, as if she’d been jabbed. She held her hand to her heart. “It is a pleasure.”

“Same. This dress is gorgeously put together and you look lovely in it,” Liza said. His sister was a lovely thing. Long and graceful, with prominent front teeth, skin as brown as wet bark, with the kohl-rimmed eyes of a Bedouin—she was runway striking. They shared no blood, but the woman had something of Dorsey in her bearing. The straight shoulders and imperious nose. Gigi twirled around.

“Same to you. Who are you wearing? I have to get the name of your stylist,” Gigi gushed.