I didn’t know what that was about, but I didn’t love it.

I surfed the tide of guests who seemed to all be gossiping about me until, eventually, I ended up in a room with no fewer than four sets of doors thrown open to the chilly December air. Tall wire baskets of fur throws stood near each exit with a sign that read FAUX YOUR PERSONAL USE, as if to make clear, in a room with four stuffed buck heads on the wall, that no animals had been harmed in the warming of anyone’s bodies. I took one and wrapped myself in it, feeling like a proper Tudor, and found a little lovers’ bench framed by what in spring would be beautiful rosebushes. The longer I sat there alone, the sadder I felt. This time last year, Nick had been here instead of with me? And I’d been with Marta, the thought of whom gave me a twinge of grief all over again. Getting drunk to Bryan Adams sounded like bliss right now.

“Oh, thank God,” Nick said, appearing to my right, bundled in his own throw and looking ridiculous. “I did three laps looking for you and then got waylaid by Penelope Eight-Names wanting to talk about my grief over ‘our’ relative’s passing.” He pulled his tie loose around his neck. “She’s so many cousins removed that she never even met Great-Gran.”

“I wish I’d managed to bump into her,” I said. “She would have at least talked to me.”

Nick tightened his fur around himself and sat down. “I feel like Henry the Eighth in this thing.”

“I guess that makes me Catherine of Aragon,” I said. “At least I get to keep my head.”

He sighed. “This is not any less awful than it was last year.” He paused, then nudged me. “Perhaps mildly less.”

“It’s not the most fun I’ve ever had,” I admitted. “Everyone here seems concerned that you’re missing out on a ‘freebie’ tonight.”

Nick was quiet.

“Care to explain?”

He rubbed his eyes. “I should not have let you talk me into accepting this invitation.”

“Hang on, I didn’t push you into anything,” I said, holding up a warning hand. “It was late, we had no other plans, we needed to get out, and more importantly, I didn’t know there was anything that I didn’t know. A mistake you should correct right now.”

Nick set his jaw. “Annabelle made a pass at me last year,” he confessed. “And it’s my fault.” He fidgeted. “I may have led her on.”

“May have.”

He shifted. “Probably did. Definitely did.”

My heart sank. “Cool,” I said numbly. “That’s just…that’s fucking great. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

He tugged at his hair. “I hate reliving this,” he said. “I’ve been reliving it all night.”