Mama was nagging me about New York again, threatening to pull the plug on Vicious’s assistance with my health care. The urge to burn my bra and march the streets before she took my right to vote was strong that day.

Daddy was raving, probably to make me feel uncomfortable. Something about how Millie was such a thoughtful child. Subtle as a drunk elephant, as you can see.

My sister and Vicious sat next to each other, holding hands. He kept rubbing her back, as if consoling her. She did look a little green and a lot sick. Perhaps it was the nerves. I’d be nervous, too, if I was about to marry Satan’s spawn. Maybe I was just extending the disloyalty of Daddy to Emilia, but I suspected her, too.

If she really was pregnant, that meant everyone in her immediate environment knew. Everyone but me.

Dean waltzed in ten minutes late, accompanied by Jaime and his family—Melody and their daughter, Daria—and Trent Rexroth. Against my best intentions, my eyes clung to Dean desperately before scanning the rest. Trent looked busy with his phone, and Dean’s eyes scanned the room—looking for me, I assumed, and also foolishly hoped—so when he finally found me, my heart tumbled and stopped.

I looked away.

He turned around and greeted a man I didn’t know.

The spell was gone.

A hostess showed him to his seat, grinning way too wide for my liking and checking his left hand for a wedding band.

Since Dean sat at the far end of the table, I had to concentrate on not glancing his way all the time. Luckily, Gladys and Sydney sat opposite from me. Sydney filled me in on what happened in Todos Santos while Millie and I were gone and Gladys told us her favorite L.A. tales. We were two starters and one entrée in when the event coordinator had decided to have us start making toasts.

Daddy made the first toast to the happy couple. He raised his champagne glass to his eye level and talked about what an amazing couple Millie and Vicious were, leaving out the part where he couldn’t stand his soon-to-be son-in-law up until the moment the latter slipped a ring with a diamond the size of his mansion on his daughter’s finger. Then Vicious raised a toast, followed by the leading best man—Jaime—who toasted the bride. When it was my time to toast the groom, I stood and smiled, clutching the champagne glass in a death grip. My knuckles were snow-white.

“Don’t mess it up,” Mama gritted through a toothy smile. My grin didn’t falter, but something snapped inside me. Another petal fell down in my heart. Millie’s eyes shone as she looked at me, and my heart picked up speed.

Screw them. This is for Millie. I will not let her down.

“Those of you who know me know that I’m a huge fan of my sister. She’s my rock, my soul mate, and the reason that I’m still standing here, alive and well. When her heart beats for someone, mine falls in line and thumps for them too. Baron, there’s one thing I cannot take from you—you make her happy. Glowing, even.” I scanned his face for a reaction, but there was none. Maybe my sister wasn’t pregnant. Maybe I was losing my goddamn mind. “Some loves are old, and sure, others are new and frantic. Yours is both, and that’s what made your feelings toward one another outsoar everything. Even the past.” I swallowed, realizing that I, too, wanted to erase my past with a brand new future. “I wish you joy, freedom, health, and wealth, though I think you’re all covered with the last one,” I trailed off, and the room burst out laughing. A few people clapped. I suppressed a desperate cough before I continued. “So I guess I would like to make a toast to two of my favorite people. To the woman I love more than life itself, and to the man who spends his life making her happy. Baron and Millie, you don’t need my words to make it work. You have this thing covered. But just in case, I wish you everything you wish for yourself and more. Now down these glasses and have some fun.”

Taking a sip from my drink, my eyes wandered to Dean for reassurance. Some people cheered me on, but it was Dean I wanted to impress. He raised his glass to his lips, staring at me from across the room, and I shook my head, the gesture almost invisible. No drinking.

He put his drink down and licked his lower lip, his eyes saying, but yes to fucking.

I was going to take care of him. The thought was as irrational as the idea itself. Why would I want to, and why would he let me? But at the same time, I couldn’t see him throw his health away like this. Not when I truly knew what health meant.