“Ah, okay. I wasn’t sure if you were family of the wedding party. So who is your girlfriend to the bride-to-be?”

“Sister,” I said. “And I guess this is the kind of small town where a wedding party coming is big news, huh?”

“You bet. People have been talking about it for weeks since they booked a venue here. We get a lot of weddings out in the farms because it’s pretty, but one this size is pretty unusual. I told my brother a couple of you guys are bound to fall in love with it here and move out yourselves. Think I’m right?”

I gave the scenery another scan with my eyes. “My girlfriend might,” I said. Calling Pearl my girlfriend sent a little thrill through me, which felt both hilarious and pathetic. I wasn’t sure I’d really referred to her as my girlfriend too many times, but I liked the way it rolled off my tongue. I liked thinking of her as mine. “She has been talking about wanting to leave Manhattan for somewhere quieter.”

“Don’t blame her,” Zack said, nodding as he fiddled with his fishing pole. “You going to follow her if she leaves?”

“Not sure,” I said.

“Damn. That’s pretty cold. How long have you two been together?”

“About six months. And it’s more that I don’t think she’d ask me to come if she left the city.”

Zack gave a slow, knowing nod. “Got it. It’s like that? Too bad, man. I had a girlfriend once who wanted to study culinary stuff in France for a summer. I offered to come and she said I was smothering her. I backed off, she went, and she ended up pregnant by some guy named Raphaël. So, take my advice. If your girl tries to tell you she just needs some space during the move, you walk away before you get burned. Because ‘space’ is code for dick. Someone else’s dick, that is.”

I chuckled. “You know, I think that might actually be true.”

“Damn right it is.”

“My last girl,” Curtis said suddenly. I hadn’t realized the brothers had waded closer to where Zack and I were standing. “She left me for her cousin. Ain't that some shit?”

“Second cousin, Curtis. Don’t go pepper sprayin’ the stereotype.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Pepper sprayin’ the stereotype?”

“Yeah,” Lane said, looking a little indignant. “Like when you do somethin’ that makes people keep thinking something.”

“I think he means perpetuate,” Zack said quietly in my ear.

I grinned. “Well, I’m sorry to hear about your girl.”

“Ah, it’s alright,” Curtis said. “I had eyes for her sister, anyway. Point is you can’t trust ‘em. Women are snakes. Beautiful, sexy snakes. Snakes you’d like to smooch and cuddle from time to time, but snakes you can’t trust when your eyes are closed. Hell, I wouldn’t trust a woman any more than a barbecue joint that don’t trim its brisket.”

“Shee,” Lane agreed with a solemn shake of his head.