“I am. Will be again soon but had to stop by.” His hand lingered on Marisa’s shoulder as he kissed Jo-Jo on the lips, shook Kurt’s hand, and then glanced up to me. His grin reminded me of a host welcoming a patron walking into his restaurant. Nothing special. Very vanilla. Seemed it should have been more.

We’d dated in high school, but that had been a long time ago, and we’d both clearly moved on. Still, I wanted him to remember I’d been there for him like few would have. My steadfast loyalty had, in the end, been the ruin of us. I knew all his early secrets, and he’d finally admitted every time he looked at me, he remembered what he’d done wrong. His fuckups had become my fault. And still to this day, when he screwed up, he came to me for legal advice.

“Hey, Jack,” I said brightly. “Thanks for getting this room for us.”

“Only the best for the Stockton girls,” he said.

Jack met David’s gaze, held and studied it. His jaw pulsed. “I’m Jack. I own this place and another across town.”

“David Welbourne. Brit’s other half. Great place you got here.”

“You two dating?” Jack asked.

“We are,” I said, hoping it made him a tiny bit jealous.

“Congratulations.” Jack laid his hands on Marisa’s shoulders. “You guys need anything? What can I get for you?”

“We’re all set,” I said brightly. “Why don’t you join us for cake? There’s a hat waiting here for you.”

His laugh was easy, quick, and slightly menacing, meaning if I pressed, it wouldn’t end politely. “I wish I could. Jo-Jo, save some cake for me.”

She smiled, her cheeks warming a little. “Sure.”

“As always, great job, Brit.”

He kissed his wife one last time, squeezed Marisa’s shoulders, and stepped back. “I’ve work out front but just wanted to duck my head in. Sorry I can’t stay. Enjoy the balloons, M.”

“It’s not a party until you put your hat on,” Marisa teased.

“The hat’s redundant,” he said, stepping back as he surveyed the Lion hat. “We all know I’m a big scaredy-cat.”

Jo-Jo scoffed. “You’re anything but. But Brit did nail Marisa’s hat. Dorothy. The dreamer. Lost.”

I raised my glass. Leave it to Jo-Jo to say something inappropriate. “There’s no correlation.”

Kurt laughed. “I’d rather be a dreamer than heartless or brainless.”

Marisa touched her hat, adjusting it, likely wondering whether she’d been somehow set up to look like the fool. Since my sister was a kid, she could be paranoid, always feeling like someone was trying to hurt her, likely a hangover from prior drug use, or maybe even the cause of it. Either way, since Clare had died, Marisa’s paranoia had increased a hundredfold.