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I pulled Baxter closer to me and kissed the top of his head. It still filled me with wonder months into our relationship that I could do that. The gesture made him smile, which made me smile too. It was a trigger reaction I never grew tired of, made even sweeter by knowing it worked both ways. My smile lasted until movement at the gate had me looking up to see the woman unlatching it. “I didn’t invite her.” I said quickly. “It must be a coincidence.”

Baxter shrugged. “We’ve been dancing around each other for months. It’s high time something forced us into the same room together. Or,” he said with a slight smile, “the same garden.”

The couple following Verity was even more concerning, a groan escaping me when I spotted them. “And she brought my parents. I am truly sorry.”

There was no time to say anything else before Verity descended on us. Her gaze drifted to the barbecue first, her eyebrows lifting at the sight of Asher, whose only concession to the menial task was having rolled up the sleeves of his designer suit. “Who’s he? He’s gorgeous.”

“Asher,” I said. “He’s Calisto’s boyfriend.”

I leaned forward to kiss my mum on the cheek, her gaze too focused on the banner to react. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s…” I shook my head. I’d explained the situation with Baxter to them, but it was clear they hadn’t quite comprehended it. “Never mind.” After a few minutes of small talk, they drifted off toward the food. Verity didn’t follow, which left us wallowing in an awkward silence.

“Do you know what day it is today?” I blurted. I didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s the sixty-fifth anniversary of the first manned spaceflight.” No reaction. “Yuri Gagarin,” I added. “It was incredibly experimental that first flight. Gagarin had no control of the spacecraft, and the Soviets didn’t know if a human could function in weightlessness. And then there’s the whole cover-up thing where they hid the fact that, because of partial heat failure of the heat shield, he ejected from the capsule and parachuted to the ground.”

Baxter took a long swig of his beer. “Nothing to do with France, at least.”

“It’s not May yet.” At Baxter’s frown, I elaborated. “On the 5th of May, it will be two hundred and five years since Napoleon died.”

He nodded. “Of course it will.”

Verity angled her body away from me and toward Baxter. There was a slight pause before she asked, “Did you get that?”

He bit his lip to keep from laughing. “I did. Loud and clear.”

“And am I right?” she asked.

“You’re a hundred percent right,” Baxter agreed. “But what can you do?”

“What?” I asked, confused.

Verity pasted a look of innocence on her face. “Nothing.”

“What?” I asked again, looking between the two of them.

Verity laughed. “I have to admit,” she said to Baxter, “that this could be fun. Like a…”

“An ally,” Baxter finished for her.

She nodded. “An ally.” She gestured between the two of them as if I’d ceased to exist. “We’ll catch up later. We can talk about bands, TV programs, and films. Basically, anything modern.”

“Sure,” Baxter agreed with a smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Just the two of us,” she called back as she sashayed toward the barbecue.

Baxter was still smiling when she was no longer in sight. “What just happened?” I asked. “What did she say?”

“I can’t possibly disclose that. It would break a confidence.” He headed toward the house. Forced to either let the conversation drop or trail after him, I followed, catching up with him in the kitchen.

“So you two are going to gang up against me now. Is that how it is?”

He grinned. “Looks like.”

I considered the scene I’d just witnessed. “I’m guessing she said something about me not being fun at parties.”

Baxter’s lips twitched. “Pretty much.” When I didn’t share his amusement, he dragged me close, looping his arms around my neck to stare into my eyes. “So you spout random historical facts when you get nervous,” he said. “It’s not a crime. In fact, I think it’s adorable.”

“You’re just saying that,” I muttered.