The twirling, blinking lights remind me for a moment of Coney Island, and of the boy who once held my hand as music swirled around us.

I don’t want him here with me, so I shoo him away, like a pest to deal with later. Not now, please, don’t make me think of him now.

The club Oliver has asked us to meet him at is easy enough to find. It’s lit up like the Fourth of July, with a door shaped like a mouth with literal teeth carved into the stone.

The name of the club is carved into stone too: Le Ciel et l’Enfer. Maxine snickers. “Heaven and Hell,” she translates. “My, what has our nice boy Oliver gotten himself into?”

“He said we were meeting friends of his tonight.”

“Well, I’d hazard a guess they’re interesting.”

“Hmm” is all I manage to reply. One of my favorite things about Oliver is feeling as if I know everything about him. Has he become someone new in the months we’ve been apart?

Music spills out onto the street, raucous horns and the happy lilting tune of flutes. There’s singing, too, a woman’s voice in French singing a melody that has me tapping my feet before the driver has slowed to a complete halt.

The party has spilled out onto the sidewalk. Men in undone tuxedos and half-buttoned shirts mill about smoking cigarettes, dates on their arms in fine silks, jewels dripping from their ears like icicles.

There’s a man in a red silk suit, illuminated by the dim gas lanterns of the building’s facade, waving a white-tipped cane. “Entrez et soyez damné!” he shouts over and over to passersby who giggle and look scandalized.

I look to Maxine for a translation. She arches a brow. “Enter and be damned.”

“Good Lord, they really are leaning into it,” Lena says.

The lights shift, illuminating a single point. Oliver is standing on the sidewalk in a fine suit with a shy smile on his face. He’s standing perfectly still amongst the chaos, like he doesn’t mind waiting at all. Even in the dark of the night, he still looks golden, and my heart does a little flip.

His smile grows as we approach him. “Frances, you came!”

“Of course I came.” I laugh because he’s shaved the mustache between lunch and now. “The mustache is gone.”

“Never say I can’t take constructive criticism.”