“She’s showing you her ring.” Bri pointed.
“I’m engaged!” Casey held her hand up higher, and the diamond flashed.
That made more sense than her believing she was the Queen of England. Gerard nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“My condolences.”
“Thank y—” Casey’s automatic response broke off and her smile faltered, confused. “Wait. What?”
Bri rolled her eyes as she opened the mini-fridge door and peered inside. “He’s kidding.”
“Am I, though?” He saluted with his coffee cup and smirked.
Casey crossed her arms, but the sparkle didn’t leave her eyes. This girl had it bad over her engagement. She studied him. “I think he’s serious.”
“Now you don’t believe in marriage?” The fridge door slammed shut as Bri turned back to face him. “Are you kidding me?”
He held up his hand in defense. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe in marriage.” It existed—though it was becoming more and more extinct as the generations passed.
Casey leaned toward him, as if interested in hearing more. Funny, most women tuned him out at this point. Or left the table for him to pick up the check. One had thrown her tea in his face.
Both women here were empty-handed, so he continued. “I believe in marriage. I just don’t believe it’s guaranteed or that it lasts. It’s a huge risk.” Peter and Cynthia were the only exception, and they weren’t typical.
Casey tilted her head, eyebrows arched. “Maybe. But some risks are worth taking.”
He gestured with his coffee. “True. Vegas shovels in quite a bit of money on that belief.”
“You’re comparing romance and true love to a neon strip?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “Both are full of smoke and mirrors.”
Casey’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead.
“That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, this is what Trek Magazine sends as a romantic destination writer.” Bri gestured to Gerard like a game-show host might demonstrate a prize, then rolled her eyes. “Must see it to believe it.”
Casey leaned in even closer, crowding his space. A knowing spark lit her eyes. “Been burned before, Author Man?”
Time to redirect. “While you’re currently feeling lucky in love, may I interview you for the magazine feature?”
“Sure. As long as you don’t quote me as wearing a black dress down the aisle and ordering black roses for my bouquet.” Casey pointed at him in warning. “And don’t you dare use the word condolences.”
“I’ll make it accurate. Email me.” Gerard handed her his business card. “Although, your idea is probably more accurate in general.”
“A wedding is not like a death.” Bri crossed her arms and all but glowered at him. Gerard squinted. Nope, there was definite glowering. She was taking this personally.
“What’s the deal, Cupcake? No one’s raining on your parade.” He pointed at Casey and grinned. “I’m raining on hers.”
Casey still looked like she’d taken up permanent residence on cloud nine. He wasn’t fazing her in the least, which was part of what he’d wanted to find out. She beamed. “Hey, every good romance movie ends in the rain.”
Bri smiled, but the glower returned when her gaze collided back with Gerard’s. He slid his empty coffee mug to her. “The coffee was better today.”
She snatched the cup off the counter. “Incorrigible.”
“No, I said better.”
Casey coughed into her hand, but not before Gerard glimpsed the smile she covered. “I’ve got to go pick up the girls.” She nodded at Gerard. “I’ll be in touch.” She waved at Bri. “See you later. Don’t forget book club Thursday.”
“I’ll be there! And congratulations again.” She stressed the congrats, as if she could make up for Gerard’s sarcasm.
The second the door swung shut behind Casey, Bri turned to him with a fiery spark in her eyes. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what? Uncover the truth?”
She gestured in frustration. “Sprinkle your darkness dust everywhere.”
“Darkness dust?” Harsh. And a little comical.
“You know what I mean.” She fumbled with an oven mitt, and for a moment he felt the urge to duck. “Wait. What do you mean by uncover the truth?”
“I was testing her. It’s part of my interview process.”
“What? To goad your contacts into submission?”
“To see how easily they can be persuaded to have a view opposite the one they started with.”
Whatever it was she’d been about to say, she must have changed her mind. Her parted lips slowly clamped together. “So Casey passed.”
“Of course she passed. She’s in love.” He tapped the display glass. “Why don’t you calm down over there, Cupcake, and get me a petit four?”
A smile cracked the surface as she made her way to the display class. “Fine. But I’m charging you this time.”
“I’d have been shocked otherwise.”
“And you have to sit over there.” She pointed to the table farthest from the counter.
“Sold.” He slid a five-dollar bill across the counter. “Make that two.” He’d have a stomachache again, but he needed a reason to linger.
And dang it, if those petit fours weren’t concocted of pure ambrosia.
He took the desserts—she’d given him two with pink icing, which at this point had to be on purpose, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it—to the table she’d indicated and pulled out his laptop.
The door chimed, and an elderly man shuffled in with a walker, maneuvering it over the doorstop with surprising ease. His beige jacket hung loose around his slight frame, and he purposed toward the counter as if in slow motion.
Bri turned at the chime, and her countenance brightened to rival the sun. “Mr. Mac! I haven’t seen you in nearly two weeks. I was getting worried.”
“I had a cold.” His husky voice cracked as he fished in his pocket and removed a white handkerchief. “You know I can’t stay away long. Betty has her expectations.”
“And it’s a good thing she does.” Bri began bagging up something the man hadn’t even ordered from the display. “The usual?”
“Of course.” He coughed, then tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket. “She’s waiting.”
“Of course.” Bri mirrored the expression with a voice so kind it soothed a nerve Gerard didn’t know had been exposed. He watched
