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“But you’re Damian fucking Marshall!” Vin says, jazz hands spread wide.
Unless I’m not anymore. Who knows who I’ll be if the dust doesn’t settle? Time for Vin to go before I get too maudlin. I scoop up the champagne bottle and pull a Roberta.
“Where are you staying?” I ask as I open the door.
Vin blows me a kiss as he walks by. “Same place, one floor down. You have three hours to sulk, then I’m dragging your skinny ass downstairs to view the merchandise—I mean, have dinner.”
I can’t help my smile. This is why Roberta sent Vin along. I can’t stay sad when he’s around. I nudge him as he walks through the door.
“We’ll try some of those local Alaskan delicacies?”
Vin’s smile is radiant against his pink shirt. “There’s my boy.”
