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49

I didn’t give a toast.

I didn’t clink our glasses.

I just brought the wine up to my lips and took a long, hard sip.

“Are you in the mood for something sweet?” She reached for the display that now permanently held desserts in the center of my island, lifting the glass top. “Everly and I made mini pies today.”

“Have I ever said no to anything you made?”

She laughed. “I suppose not.”

She lifted one out of the case and put the top back on. “This one is for me. Yours are in here”—she walked to the fridge and took out a separate container that she placed in front of me—“because they have to be kept cold.”

Several pies were sitting inside the Tupperware.

I brought one up to my nose, smelling it. “Chocolate?”

“Chocolate cream.”

“You didn’t?”

Her eyes went wide as she nodded. “But I did. Do you want a fork?”

“Nah.” I took the pie out of the small foil dish and bit into it. “Damn it, Sydney.”

She did the same, holding it with her hands, chewing as she answered, “Right? It’s beyond.”

“You keep t
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