Jason stared blankly for a second, then nodded enthusiastically. Yeah. Sure.

At that point in the conversation, Joshua let out a distressed wail. All eyes turned to him. Then he said something that sounded like, What am I supposed to eat for ten freakin' days?

The dentist smiled. I recommend milkshakes and smoothies. And I'm sure Jason would be happy to make them for you. Am I right about that?

Jason sighed deeply. I live to serve, he said.

Herehave some more, my friend.

Lucio held out his wine glass and smiled. Sometime after the disastrous meeting, Piers had revealed the depth of his compassion and loyalty by going outon his own, no lessand purchasing two bottles of Rioja from a little wine shop in the city. The gesture had required research, Lucio knew. Piers had gone out of his way for him. Lucio raised his newly refilled glass in gratitude. Muchisimas gracias, mi amigo.

De nada, Piers said, raising his glass in concert with Lucio. So, go on. What happened next?

Where was I?

She had just run out the door with her purse.

Ah, yes. Lucio had been rambling on to Piers for nearly an hour, describing the series of strange encounters he'd had with the delectable Ginger Garrison. Of course, he'd not gone into great detail. He'd skipped over how, the night of Rick's wedding, he'd drunk from Ginger's vessel of love right out on the front lawn of the ranch. He also left out how he felt inexplicably drawn to Ginger every time he saw her. In addition, he'd failed to mention the power of that afternoon's kiss, or how his heart had stopped at the vision of her stretched out on the tile in that see-through scrap of fabric that passed as underpants. He only wanted his friend's advice, and he could get that without stooping to locker room stories.

Well, she runs out of the house and leaves me dressed in only my socks and shoes!

You mean that was it? Piers looked disappointed.

Lucio shrugged, taking another sip of the rich red elixir and letting it mellow in the back of his throat. For a man who knew virtually nothing about wine, Piers had made a fine selection.

But where did she go? How serious was her son's injury?

What do I know? Lucio gestured to the world in general. She has not contacted me since. I am concerned about her sonand I can only assume those were her sonsbut what do I know? I know nothing!

Piers grinned. No time for formal introductions, I take it?

Lucio laughed. Perhaps we will save that for when I am clothed.

And when no one is bleeding, Piers added.

Both men laughed.

She is divorced. Did I tell you that? Lucio went on. Her ex-husband was a dickhead. He still is, I hear.

One of Piers's blond eyebrows arched high on his forehead. Rick told you that?

Oh, no, I believe Rick is still on his honeymoon. But I did have a lovely discussion with the lady who performed Rick's ceremony. She was an unusual old womanquite an intense gaze for one of her age.

What did she say?

Lucio switched his wine glass to his left hand so he could gesture with his right. It's a story we have both heard before. An unfaithful husband caught in the act. But in Ginger's case, she caught him in the driveway. In the back of the family minivan.

You're joking! Piers's lips parted in disbelief.

Lucio sighed with the burden of the truth. But my point is thisI wonder, with all the lovely lady has gone through, whether perhaps I should leave her alone.

Piers's eyes widened.

Perhaps I should never bother her again, yes?

Piers thought for a moment, then gave him a confused look. But didn't you say she was your first client?

Lucio laughed. Holy God, I forgot all about that! All I've been thinking about is Ginger the woman, not Ginger the paying customer!

Hmm, Piers said.

But that is what she must remaina customer. After all, I do not have the kind of stability a woman needs from a man.

Unfortunately, you do not.

I have no money. No career. No home. I'm a hairbreadth from prison. I would set a poor example for her sons, yes?

Yes.

Today's events took a wrecking ball to my life! Lucio's voice became louder and more excited, which he knew only intensified his accent. If he were having a conversation with anyone but Piers, he would fear he couldn't be understood. Now I must pick up the bricks, one by one, and try to rebuild something, but I do not think my life will ever look the same!

Piers nodded some more, propping his pale, sandaled feet to the balcony railing. I know how you feel, he said.

Suddenly, Lucio had a brilliant idea: The steadfast Piers Skaarsgard would make a much better match for a woman like Ginger. He nearly made that observation out loud when something inside stopped him. He did not want any other man near Ginger Garrison. Not even a man of the most stable circumstances or unsullied history. Not Piers. Not anyone.

Lucio looked over at Piers, the glimmer of the city bathing Piers's white face and long, lean body in a pale glow. His old friend was six foot four, three inches taller than Lucio. He was his opposite in many ways, and always had been. Where Lucio had a tendency to be loose with his tongue and his anger, Piers remained stoic. Where Lucio went through women faster than rolls of film, Piers had only loved onceand it was Sylvie Westcott. While Lucio plunged headfirst into jobs, relying on gut feelings to guide him, Piers had always taken a studious and cautious approach to his work. Neither way was better. Just different. And both men had built formidable careers in a brutally competitive industry.

Lucio took another sip of wine, admitting to himself that this was the real reason he wanted the Erskine award. It wasn't just the money. It was the recognition. The honor. Each November, every professional nature and wildlife photographer on the planet sent work to the Erskine committee in Stockholm. Then every March, they would await the announcement of who won, and in what category. This year would mark Lucio's first win. That is, if they chose to allow him to keep it.

Suddenly, Piers dropped his feet from the railing and doubled over, his head hanging to his knees. Lucio heard him cry.

The Host! Lucio set down his wine glass and turned his full attention to his friend. How selfish he had beenthinking only of himself and his ego when Piers was still filled with sorrow over Sylvie's death. It had only been six months. And to think, when Lucio had just complained about his house tumbling down, it had only been a metaphor. For Piers, the destruction had been literal. His home had collapsed when Sylvie died. He had lost his wife, his place in the world.

Lucio put a hand on Piers's bony shoulder as he cried. He did not know what to say. He hoped just being at his side was enough. It was the kind of support he should have offered six months ago.

Lucio was suddenly filled with shame, hot and heavy in his chest. He had learned about Sylvie's illness a year before she died, when he was on assignment on Easter Island. He'd sent an e-mail, but did not have the opportunity to speak to Piers and Sylvie for another three months. By the time he'd called, her leukemia had worsened, and Lucio was already on his way to Papua New Guinea with plans to move on to northern China.

He never made it back in time to say good-bye to one old friend and to comfort the one who remained. The truth hit Lucio hardhe'd had one chance to do the decent thing by Piers and Sylvie, and he'd blown it.

I am so sorry I was not here for you, Lucio whispered.

Piers did not respond. His crying continued, and, out of embarrassment, Piers turned his head away and pulled his shoulder from under Lucio's touch.

So Lucio waited. He poured himself another glass of wine and kept vigil over his grieving companion.