Page 100 of Gave Proof Through the Night

"Good to see you again," he says, a little awkwardly.

Ginger pats his back twice, the way you’d pat a large dog that startled you. “You too.”

Tanya, undeterred, drags him further into the loft by the hand. “This is Suri. Suri, Dale. And this is Ivy.”

Suri gives a two-fingered wave without fully opening her eyes. Ivy, on the other hand, in her bougie silk pajama set, extends both hands to take Dale’s, and gives him a cheek kiss on each side of his face. Like they’re old friends or something.

Incidentally, Ivy is the only one of us with an actual apartment in this city. But she’s been camping on our floor for three days. For the bonding, she’d said when she rolled four full-sized suitcases into the loft.

Zoe catches my eye across the room. Dale saw everything, her eyebrows say. Everything.

I know! And after the lengths they took yesterday to keep Jeremiah out.

Dale finally sets the messenger bag down by the door next to the carry-on, free of everything now except Tanya’s hand, and she takes full advantage, pulling him back outside before anyone can fully register what just happened. She’s still in her pajamas, barefoot, and is walking hand-in-hand with him down the sidewalk like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Zoe shuts the door behind them. The rest of us look at each other for a long beat.

Coffee. We need coffee.

I make it to the cupboard at the same time as Rue, and we end up reaching over each other for the last of the pastries, a sad, slightly stale danish that neither of us actually wants but both of us are, apparently, willing to fight for at six in the morning. She wins. I settle for coffee, black, because whoever finished the creamer last night is a war criminal.

“So what’s the plan today?” Ivy asks. “Besides surviving whatever that was.”

“I have dress shopping,” I say. “The gala’s in three days and I still don’t have anything.”

“Ooh.” Rue, mouth full of danish. “Make sure you get one that knocks his socks off.”

“When do we get to meet this hockey player guy?” Ginger says, peeking into the mini fridge for last night’s leftovers.

“How about the tenth of never,” I say, and take another sip of my coffee like that settles it.

Suri’s already headed for the bathroom, toothbrush in hand. She is not a morning person.

My phone buzzes.

Jeremiah: I’m up and dreading today. If you’re still sleeping, reply when you wake up. I will have my phone in my hand all day. If I just woke you up, ignore and go back to sleep.

Me: im up. got an unexpected visitor just now

Jeremiah: Who? Do I need to throw hands?

Me: LOL no its just my friend’s fiance

Jeremiah: Hold up. If I'd known I could crash the girls’ fort, I'd have been there already

Me: No crashing the girls' fort. No boys allowed

I set the phone down before he can talk me out of it, which, knowing him, he’d probably try. But this loft is way too crowded as it is. No, Dale can’t stay here.

I go for my bag which is hanging off the back of a kitchen chair. It’s an army-green thing tattered in all the right places. A cross between a purse and a backpack. I got it at a yard sale a few years ago and even though it looks like it survived Vietnam, I can’t bring myself to replace it. I dump half of it onto the counter before I find the Four Seasons card wedged behind a lip gloss and a pack of gum.

I turn it over in my fingers. Capucine de Montfleury never did check out.

I’m still holding it when Suri comes out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in her mouth, holding something up between two fingers like evidence.

“Whose is this?”

It takes me a second to place it.

“Is that a playing card?”