“Yeah. When was the last time you spoke with him?” I ask. She cocks her head. “I think… three weeks ago now, give or take. Right before the wedding party that he didn’t bother attending.” “I’m sorry he did that,” I say. Connie shakes her head. “Don’t. He’s his own person,” she says. “Eventually, he’ll realize that me marrying a Thompson doesn’t mean I’m a traitor to our business… or he won’t. And that’ll have to be okay.” Nate nods into his beer like they’ve had this conversation before. I frown at her. “He’ll accept it.” “Will he?” she asks dryly. “Maybe, but if he’s expecting me to come
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