“Not yet.” She sits down and takes a breath. “I need a minute. And maybe dessert.”
“Dessert I can do.”
I flag down a waiter and order the chocolate cake. She leans against me while we wait, her head on my shoulder.
“This is nice,” she murmurs.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She looks around the table at us—at Milo, still watching the room with that easy awareness of his. At Elijah, quiet and steady. At me. “I could get used to this.”
“Good. Because you’re stuck with us.”
“So you keep saying.”
“I’ll keep saying it until you believe it.”
The dessert arrives. We share it, forks crossing, and talk about nothing important—Milo’s plans for the bar, Elijah’s latest project, the disaster that was this morning’s balloon arch debate. Normal stuff. Easy stuff.
Dean Maddox finds us as we’re finishing, looking a little awkward in his dress shirt instead of his usual firehouse gear.
“Hey, sorry to interrupt the celebration,” he says, giving us all a warm smile before turning to Tessa. “Got a delivery for you. Lila wanted me to bring it over personally.”
Tessa frowns. “Lila?”
“Well, she didn’t say it was from her.” He pulls an envelope from his jacket, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anonymous, supposedly. But you know how she is about not wanting credit for stuff.”
Tessa opens it. I watch her face as she unfolds the check.
Her eyes go wide.
“Dean, this can’t be right,” she says.
“Trust me, it’s right.” He grins. “You know Lila. She just wants to help. Didn’t want a big fuss.”
“But this would cover the entire roof. And then some.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, still smiling. “She loves this town. And she wanted tonight to be special for you guys.” He glances at the four of us, eyes crinkling. “Looks like it worked out.”
He gives us a little wave and heads back toward the door, probably to find Lila.
Tessa stares at the check. “That woman.”
“The movie star?”
“She’s bonded to Dean. And apparently the most generous person in Montana.” She tucks it carefully into her clutch. “She didn’t want it to be about her.”
“That’s really generous.”
“Yeah.” Her voice is soft. “It is.”
The music shifts to something slower, more intimate. Couples are drifting off the dance floor, heading home. The night is winding down.
“We should go,” Tessa says. “Before they start cleaning up.”
“Where to?” Milo asks.
We all look at each other. My place is too small. Milo’s apartment above the bar is loud. Tessa’s?—
