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Jim—shorter than she is, just as old, but hair too dark to be natural—nods. “Yes, dear.”

Fox gives her a big smile, big enough that I can feel the residual warmth, and I remember to smile too.

As his girl.

“Thanks for the advice, uh⁠—”

“Glenda,” she supplies, and nods at the dealer. “You’re gonna wanna change your chips in too, honey. We each get our own color.”

“Oh. Right.” Fox pivots to where the dealer—a skinny guy with a gray mustache and the trademark vest—is waiting politely. “Um…”

“What are they worth?” the dealer asks.

“Twenty-five.”

The dealer nods as Fox pushes his stack of house chips over. “Any color preference? I’ve got white, orange, green⁠—”

“Green,” Fox says quickly, with a glance back at me. I frown.

“Because…” He looks me up and down. “Your dress. I thought it’d be good luck.”

My cheeks go warm as the dealer hands over Fox’s stack.

Have fun on your date, I hear in my mind.

It isn’t a date, I retort to Wendy in my head. We’re just trying to do you a favor.

“Okay, so?” Fox leans in, chips in front of him on the table, and I know the question’s genuine. I study the felt, trying to think of how to play this, but the wheel’s already whirring, and⁠—

“Place your bets,” calls the dealer.

Shit. So much for strategizing.

“Keep it simple?” I say. “To start. Just…” I glance at the felt one more time. “Put it on odd.”

I watch as Fox nods, thoughtful, and drops his own chips on the other box. EVEN.

Glenda blinks at him. “Honey, that’s EVEN.”

“I—” Fox frowns, like he hadn’t even realized, but the wheel’s already losing its spin, the ball’s click-click-clicking slowing down.

“No more bets!”

The ball tumbles over its last few pockets and comes to rest on a 12.

“Ooh!”

The dealer sweeps his rake across the felt, dragging the losing chips into his tray in one smooth pull. “Twelve, red.” He sets a little marker on the 12, counts out a stack of green to match Fox’s bet, and slides it over. “Even money.”

Fox looks as surprised as anyone. He stares at the new pile like it might be a trick. Then stares at me. Then at the pile again, like he’s waiting for someone to take it back.

Jim smirks and wags a finger at him. “Naughty boy, thinking you know more than the brains of the operation.” He nods at me.

Fox’s ears go red, but he straightens his posture. “Hey, sometimes you get a gut instinct.” He scoots his chips a little closer, with a glance at me. “Worked out in the end, right?”

Still no reason to do the opposite of what I said, I think. What was that about? Then again, it’s probably exactly what a flashy bro-type would do, so maybe he’s not wrong. I play along. “My feminine intuition must have been off.” I beam at Fox. “Good call.”

“See?” Jim nods at me and leans into Glenda. “That’s the kind of woman who respects a man who provides. Where’d you find her?” he adds, to Fox, raising his voice a little. “They make them in an older model?”