"They're moving into the new place, Brooke? Their house is finished?" Cole asked.
"The paint is still wet but it's finished," she replied, handing the plate back to JJ.
"Took them long enough," Owen muttered.
"And Nate?" Cole asked, searching the table once again. "Where is he?"
JJ nodded as he sipped his drink. "Nate is moving into Annette and Jackson's old rental."
"Yeah, he's had enough of the tavern's attic," Brooke added. "Something about the low ceilings and tiny windows and the potpourri of beer and onion rings." She glanced back at us while she served herself. "He manages the tavern now that Jed lives and breathes gin. You'll meet him on your next visit."
Before I could swerve out of that commitment, Gus said, "That would be great."
"That kid needs a dog," Owen announced. Elliott was drooling all over his hand. Owen didn't seem to notice.
"Thekidis much closer to thirty than he is twenty," JJ remarked. "We can't call him a kid forever."
"Can," Owen replied. "Will."
Cole shot an indulgent smile at his husband. "You think everyone needs a dog."
Owen nodded at the dogs seated beside him, Sasha and the Harniczeks' dog Butterscotch. Their tails thumped against the floor as they waited for scraps and attention. "It's true. I'm going to phone the kid after dinner and give him some info on the shelter where we adopted Sasha."
"I'm not sure he has time for a dog," JJ said. "But he loves Butterscotch."
"What's not to love?" Owen asked, using his free hand to scratch her head before moving on to Sasha. "Nate would do well with a dog. He needs someone counting on him."
"How is the distillery business coming along?" I asked JJ.
He ran a hand down his face, laughing. "Better than I'd expected. More tiring than I'd expected."
"Four teeth before seven months is part of the exhaustion," Brooke quipped. "Our kid likes to beat all expectations."
"My wife is correct. If he keeps going at this pace, I'll be able to put him to work pouring drinks some time next summer," JJ said. "Honestly, it's been incredible. We're closed one day per week now and that day is necessary to keep everything stocked and working properly. The real challenge is demand. We have a waiting list for events and distribution partners already. I didn't expect we'd get to this point for several years."
"I'm thrilled to hear it," I said.
"And I'm thrilled to drink it," Cole added.
Owen chuckled. "I'm thrilled you're a cozy drunk."
"How is your world, Neera?" Brooke asked. "It must be bizarre to go between Silicon Valley and Talbott's Cove. When I first came back here from New York City, I was fixated on all the overwhelming differences. I couldn't see the village without noticing the absence of yellow taxis and gridlock. It's quiet and everyone walks slowly and it is so freaking dark at night. Right? Do you notice these things?"
"There is some culture shock," I admitted with a laugh. "But Cole keeps me busy. I barely get time to notice the lack of noise and light when we're working together."
"I'm sure he does," JJ said. "It's not easy to keep track of this guy. I don't envy you."
Bristling, I forced a grin and lifted my drink to my lips. It was an innocuous comment—and one from a man who knew the realities of working with Cole—but it hit me the wrong way. When I boiled it all down, JJ was right. I kept track of Cole. My career was composed of helping men achieve great things by keeping them out of their own way.
At what point would I achieve something of my own? It wasn't a thought I entertained often. On most days, I was content—more than that,satisfied—with being the one who made things happen.
Suddenly, I didn't feel content today.
* * *
Later that night,Gus and I were again closed up in the guest room. This time, we were getting ready for bed. Unlike the hedonistic moment we'd shared earlier, this was domestic and chaste. I tended to my extensive nightly skincare routine while Gus cleaned the remains of charcoal from his wrists and palms. I caught glimpses of him in the mirror as he hummed to himself and he circled a damp bit of cloth over his skin, focusing on the stains pressed far into the fine creases of skin.
"Let me ask you again," he started, "what do you think about all this?" He gestured to the door. "The family and the dogs and the baby and the total absence of business as usual. At least the business to which you're familiar."
