Page 187 of Full Contact

Peaches finished her treat and washed a paw.

Varga lowered his phone. “To Anna, who gets the only proper welcome in this house.”

Anna raised her glass.

“To Trier, who sent a harness back because it was too yellow,” Varga continued.

“I’d do it again,” Trier said.

“We know. And to Mark, who sat down beside a man and his cat at a wedding and missed the beginning of my speech.”

“I heard most of it.”

Trier wrapped his arm around me. I rested my hand over his.

“Barely cleared the spoon warning,” Rook said.

“It worked out well for everybody,” Varga said. “We’re very glad Peaches is still here to ignore us.”

We raised our glasses. Peaches went on washing.

I cut the cake while Sully described the restaurant they’d booked for the wedding next summer. The back room held forty, which was exactly the number he and Pratt wanted.

“Forty,” Varga said. “After the proposal you got?”

“The proposal was fine.”

“No crowd. No knee.”

Pratt took the corner cake slice from me and handed it to Sully, who smiled up at him before accepting it.

“We like forty,” Pratt said.

Varga took his cake.

My phone buzzed beside the plates. Adrian sent a text from Thunder Bay, and I read it out loud.

Adrian: I asked once about a longer piece with Peaches. After the championship and the prediction legend, I’d like to ask again. Still interested if you are. Happy birthday to her.

“Adrian alone,” Trier said. “Here at home. Peaches leaves whenever she wants. No predictions.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“Yes. Give him my number. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Trier reached toward my plate with his fork.

“You have your own,” I said.

“Yours has more frosting.”

I cut him a bite. He leaned forward and took it from my fork, with his eyes on mine.

“You’re encouraging him,” Rook said.

“I’ve been doing that for a while.”

At the far end of the counter, Callahan was listening to Heath explain something with a fork. When Heath went looking for another napkin, Trier caught Callahan’s attention.