“Really?”

“Really. And I want you to stay in Austin.”

“You do?”

“Yes. When you were in Switzerland, Rue and I kept saying how much we missed you.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Not because we love you, or you’re fun to have around, mind you. But we do need someone to walk the dozens of dogs we’re in the process of acquiring. And to take care of the plants.” He grins. “Cheap labor.”

I nod. Hope warms my stomach. “So, we’re good?”

“We’re great.”

I smile. Eli does, too, pulling me in for a bear hug.

A throat clears. “Okay, well, I’m so happy that my accidental screw-up led to you guys having such a beautiful heart-to-heart, but—”

“Shut up, Paul,” Eli and I say.

This time, Conor joins in, too.

Chapter 33

The Mount Etna eruption is still ongoing; the airport will be closed for the next twenty-four hours, at the very least; despite Nyota’s continuing threats, Rue still does not have a dress; Eli’s wedding planner bursts into tears during their Zoom call and asks to be replaced; the person who owns the ice rink where Rue, Eli, and I used to skate, and who is supposed to officiate the wedding, informs us that he’s too scared of the wee bit of lava trickling down toward Catania to fly in.

All in all, it’s the perfect night for a wine tasting.

We head out at sunset. The vineyards are beautiful, even more so in the purple blanket of twilight. The live band is instrumental and jazzy, soft and melodic in a way that soothes my growing anxiety that this wedding might not be able to happen. The wine…

I try very hard not to let my real opinion show, but I hold on to my deeply held beliefs: all wine tastes the same, and that same is rotten grapes.

“You’re not even supposed to drink it,” Nyota says, frantically trying to turn me into a classier person. “You let it swish in your mouth, savor the finish and the aftertaste, and then spit it out.”

“So I get to suffer through the shitty flavor, and no booze? I’m not bougie enough for this.”

“Fix yourself,” she yells after me, “or I won’t take you with me as my plus-one when I become a lobbyist for Big Grape!”

I find Conor at one of the round patio tables, sitting with Sul, and settle next to him. They’re laughing about someone they know who might be going to prison for financial shit, making jokes about the relationship between ayahuasca retreats and a CEO’s ability to maximize shareholder value. Then Avery and Diego join us, and they switch to Kaede’s day care, one of their quants exiting his polycule after five years, lower back pain, retirement funds, the Super Bowl. The way youths these days can’t write in cursive.

I lace my hands together, drape them over the back of my chair, lay my head on them, and watch it all happen. I may not have much to contribute, but this is fun.