Page 113 of Smoke and Glitter

Summer pulls the plate against her chest. "You're unbelievable."

"You left an opening."

"I am carrying your goddaughter."

I laugh and settle back into the couch while she resumes eating.

I've missed them. Not the city. Not the weather. Not any of the things people mean when they ask whether Chicago feels like home.

These people. Summer's shoulder rests against mine, and I let my head tip against hers.

"I'm going to miss you."

Her fork stops halfway to her mouth.

I feel the old reflex immediately, the urge to tack on something that makes the sentence less exposed.

Summer sets the plate on the coffee table instead.

"I'm going to miss you too."

Her hand finds mine between us.

"Charleston isn't forever, London isn't forever," she says.

"I still get to miss you."

"Yes, you do."

"And I'll be back before the baby."

"You better."

I turn my hand beneath hers and lace our fingers together. "Try keeping me away."

That earns a small smile.

"Good."

Summer picks her cake back up with her free hand and takes another bite without letting go of me.

Neither of us needs to fix the moment after that.

People start leaving in waves.

Every goodbye creates another ten-minute conversation near the front door, so the house empties slowly. Containers migrate into people's hands. Gifts get shifted toward the stairs.

I find my coat underneath two others on the chair near the entryway.

Sam is across the hall helping Dom move a box out of the path to the door. He sets it against the wall, says something to him, then looks over and sees me pulling my coat free.

He waits until Dom walks away before coming closer.

"You heading out?"

"I'm trying. Summer keeps adding goodbye requirements."

His mouth curves. "Sounds right."