“I’ve got court this week.” Next he began to tug at his necktie, twisting in an attempt to free himself.

Lara recognized the striped blue silk tie as one of his recent birthday gifts. Two weeks ago he’d turned forty—a cause for much celebration by everyone but him. There had been a party, an awkward affair with people from the courthouse and others who knew him casually. At his party, Ben had been gracious, but he seemed like he was dying to leave before the cake was wheeled out. His secretary (yes, they still called her that) had been the one to spot Ben’s driver’s license and notice the milestone date, which had led to a phone tree (they still had those, too). Since he was also newly divorced, his party had been filled with widows and divorcées who’d brought presents with them—house plants, beer mugs, golf balls (even though Ben wore a police uniform most days and never golfed), as well as neckties in every hue of blue.

She pushed her wine away and turned her stool toward him. “You don’t have to wear them all, you know.” She kept her hands on her glass, but the desire to touch the tie to feel the quality of silk under her fingers was strong.

“The hell I don’t.” He leaned in, and she felt his breath on her neck. “They watch.”

Lara snorted and wine came out her nose. He wasn’t wrong. As if on cue, Del—Delilah’s owner, who was serving as bartender—put her hand on her hip. “Nice tie, Ben. Who got you that one?”

“Pepper Maguire, I do believe.”

They’d have been better off tucked away in a quiet booth, but they always sat at the bar. She had never been self-conscious about their friendship, until recently. Lately Lara had noticed people glancing up over their salads or craning their necks to get a glimpse of them together. She wondered if they’d been doing that for months and she just never paid attention.

At a nearby booth, Lara could see Kim Landau, the Kerrigan Falls Express reporter, watching them. She and Ben avoided each other in that charged way that people who’d accidentally slept together then regretted it later did. “I saw Marla earlier today.”

“And how is my former half doing?” Ben glanced up as Del slid his usual drink, a Jameson straight, in front of him.

“She was picking up a photo at Gaston Boucher’s.”

“Well, he does do all of her framing.” Ben took a sip of his drink. “And not at a discount, either, might I add.” He shook his head. “She has a framing habit.”

“She is a photographer.”

“Well, wedding photography isn’t that lucrative.”

“I hired the other photographer in town,” said Lara, considering what he’d said. “It was an early night for him.”