Page 143 of I Think They Love You

“At the end of the day—” Eric motions to where Kenneth holds court, the center of a laughing group. “—I know he’s proud I chose my happiness first.”

Denz studies his dad. The ease with which he moves through conversations. Everyone surrounding him has their own Kenneth Carter story, a moment he created that changed their world. Just beyond that, Denz sees the wrinkles around his dad’s eyes. The slumped posture behind closed doors. The way this job has aged and pulled from him. All the seconds, minutes, hours he’s missed from his own life.

But this is what his dad loves. What hewantsto do. Denz isn’t sure if his own dedication is built on a foundation of want or obligation anymore.

“I should check on the missus,” Eric says. “She’s been eyeing that seven-tier chocolate cake since we walked in.” He jostles Denz’s shoulder. “See you on the big stage soon, boss.”

Denz doesn’t correct Eric as he jogs off. After a minute, he meanders over to the corner bar. The band’s bouncing through “Single Ladies” and there’s enough people dancing that he can claim a prime spot in front of Jamie.

“You’re quite the hit,” Denz comments.

The poco grande glass near Jamie is overflowing with cashtips. He rubs his bare chin. Denz is proud his best friend shaved for the event. However, the top three buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing warm tan skin and dark chest hair.

Jamie leans forward, whispering, “I’m just trying to remember what’s in a screwdriver.”

“Orange juice and vodka.”

“That’s it?”

Worst bartender ever. Denz shakes his head. “Why are you showing so much skin?”

Jamie grins smugly. “These collarbones are going to pay next month’s rent.”

Denz rests his elbows on the bar, immediately regretting his decision when he notices how sticky the surface is. He’ll have to get this Dolce & Gabbana jacket dry-cleaned before returning it to Auntie Eva.

“You look stressed,” Jamie notes. He fixes a Long Island iced tea that’s all alcohol and a drop of Coke for color.

“’M fine.”

“Liar.” Jamie passes off the glass to a waiter. “Want a drink?”

“Can’t,” Denz bemoans, even though he’s proud of himself for maintaining some restraint. “Working, remember?”

He needs to be prepared for anything. Clear head, strong heart, keep calm and all that other stuff.

“I’ll take that drink.”

Jordan sidles up with an empty highball and a wicked grin. His jacquard blazer is multicolor and shimmery, a bold choice with Eva in attendance.

Denz elbows his cousin. “Aren’t you working too?”

“Technically? Yes. Theoretically?” He winks. “I’m celebrating my uncle’s long, successful career.”

“Is that what you told Kami?”

Jordan makes a fart noise. “She’s too anxious to even look me in the eye.”

Something twists in Denz’s chest. When they were much younger, Kami got the starring role in her middle school’s springplay. She rehearsed religiously. On the night of the performance, Denz remembers standing on his tiptoes to lock the girls’ restroom door so no one would walk in on Kami spewing her dinner all over the last stall. He didn’t leave her side until Leena found them.

“Haven’t you had enough, sir?” Jamie says to Jordan, shaking up a new cocktail.

“Have I?”

“Can’t afford for you to be a mess during the big announcement.”

“Jamie Noah Peters,” Jordan says in a slow, teasing voice. Pink spreads across Jamie’s cheeks as Jordan licks his lips. “You’ve never seen me a mess.”

“What about that one summer when—”

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