dessert plate is an envelope with my name on it. I pause before picking it up. No note. Just a smooth teal

stone shaped like an hourglass.

I rub it between my fingers. “Did you leave—” I stop asking Annie and Ernie if they left the

envelope here. I know who did.

I slip the stone into my pocket and search the room for him. For a while I think he left the

reception, but then I spot him.

He looks different without his blazer, and he’s wearing a mask made up of little silver squares that

reflect the light like a disco ball. It’s a different mask than the blue one he arrived in. Does he hope to

lose himself in the crowd? Does he think I won’t recognize his eyes, his mouth, his ears, his hands?

I left my mask in the gift room, but I’m not going back there so I pluck a paua shell one from the

centerpiece and put it on before making my way to the bar.

I slip onto the stool next to him. Jace startles but doesn’t acknowledge me. He sips his drink

nonchalantly instead.

I order one of what he’s having. “You here for the bride or the groom?”

Jace’s hand jerks around his glass but otherwise he’s still. He looks at me for a long moment.

“Bride,” he says. “We go way back.”

“Groom,” I say, leaning in conspiratorially. “Once I saw the guy swear at an old lady for cutting in

line, and she whipped out her cane and tripped him in the parking lot. I’m Cooper, by the way, and who

are you, Mr. Friend of the Bride?”

Jace laughs uncertainly. His gaze flashes to the bartender and the whiskey bottles. “Call me

Wesley.”

I lift my tumbler glass and drink deeply. The warm whiskey burns as it slides down my throat. I

cough and chuckle at myself. “What do you think of the Halloween-birthday-masquerade wedding? I

think the guy is after the gifts.”

“Could be. Makes sense. He’ll get twice as many. What did you get him?”

I grin. “See the biggest gift?”

“The one taking up the entire corner of the room?”

“Yep. That’s mine.”

“What is it?”

“Twenty cardboard boxes each smaller than the last.”

“Ouch. What did he do to you?”

I shrug. “He’s my dad. That’s reason enough.” I take another sip. “But there’s a photo album of our

family in the last box.”

Jace rattles the ice in his glass. “Big family?”

“No, just broken.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Broken family, broken rules. I had two birthdays, two Christmases, two great homes. I

hope the album shows him how much I love him and Lila.”

He blinks and parts his lips—

I cling my glass against his. “What is it you do, Wesley?”

He clears his throat. “I just finished university—teacher’s college—but I plan on travelling around

Europe for a year before I settle into a teaching career.”

I hold back my surprise and draw my tumbler over the condensation on the bench. I knew Jace

finished teacher’s training but I didn’t know he was planning to travel. “Wow.” I take a much larger

drink. “When does your adventure begin?”

“A few weeks. I wanted to be here for the wedding first.”

I nod, trying to shake off the disappointment. A whole year away?

How is being in Europe different than in Dunedin if you never speak anyway? “Where will you

go?”

“All over, really. I’ll start with Germany and go from there.”

“Sounds amazing. Make sure you go to Turkey to see the Göreme Fairy Chimneys. And the Giant’s

Causeway in Ireland, and of course, Stonehenge.”

“Have you been?”

“No but one day I will. After I finish my masters.”

“You really should.”

“Teacher’s college, what was that like?” What has happened to you in the past years? What have I

missed?

“I taught one class where a kid got his hand stuck in a tuba. I don’t know how he did it but it was

jammed in there. We tried pulling, rotating, even using soapy water to dislodge him. I had to send him

to First Aid. The class was in a shambles, and the only way I could pull in everyone’s attention was to

tell them about getting stuck up to my waist in mud while hiking a couple of years ago. It took me three

hours with the help of some mates to get free.”

I shake my head, grinning.

“What I didn’t tell the class was that I lost my pants in the process and came out butt naked.” Jace

winces and takes another sip. “I’ll never live it down.”

“That’s a good one.”

“What about you?” he asks. “Any embarrassing stories?”

I shrug. What the hell. “My ex and I went bungee jumping at the Kawarau Bridge near Queenstown

last year.”

“Bungee jumping. You’re crazy.”

“When you’re on the bridge, they ask if you want to touch the water. I didn’t have a change of

clothes with me so I said I’d like to touch it but not get dunked. They fiddled about with the ropes until

it was my turn. I freaked out for a few moments then jumped. I crashed through the surface of the water

and bounced back out. The rush was so intense that I didn’t immediately notice something was off. But

as the bounces slowed, I became aware of cold air on my butt and . . . that’s when I noticed the water

had pushed my shorts around my thighs and I was flashing the world.”

Jace snorts and slaps the kitchen bench. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Worst is they videotaped it and tried to sell us the memory.”

“Oh, God, please say you bought it!”

“Are you kidding?”

He laughs harder. We share a couple more experiences we’d rather forget, and Jace excuses himself

to the bathroom. When he comes back, he’s carrying a plate of chocolate-lava cake and two forks.

“Love chocolate,” he says. “Couldn’t miss this. Want some?”

I take the offered fork and we dig in.

“Did you come here with someone?” Jace asks with a token glance at the guests.

“No. Single. You?” I hold a forkful of cake to my lips.

“Me too.”

I eat the cake and hold his gaze longer than before. He rests his fork on the plate and I follow suit. I

pick at my shirt and undo a button. “It’s stuffy in here. You want to go for a walk?”

“Sure.”

I lead him outside through a gap in the trellises. When we hit the fringe of the bush, he stops and

looks at me.

“This way,” I say warmly.

Fern leaves comb our sides as we trek down the dark trail. Our steps make a dull clumping sound

on the packed-dirt path.

Jace hesitates, and I pause with him. His mask reflects the strands of moonlight filtering through

the trees. I can’t be sure but I think a grin is pulling at his lips. “You can’t expect me to follow you out

into the bush in the middle of the night!”

The words stir an earlier memory—I think they were meant to. “And yet, here you are.”

He follows me around the bend toward the babbling creek. If I listen closely enough, I think I’ll

hear our story being told to us.

Outside the cave, I stop. “We have to whisper now. Come.”

He’s close behind me as we move into the cave. For a moment, I linger in his warmth and observe

his slow, sweet smile.

The glowworms seem brighter than ever. Maybe they’re celebrating our return. “Been a long time

since I’ve been out here.”

“How long?” he whispers.

“Years.”

I try to count the hundreds of pearly-green lights but like always, I don’t finish.

Jace turns and walks out.

I leave a few moments after him. He’s standing at the creek, touching his mask as if considering

lifting it. He drops his hand. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“Want to head back?”

He nods.

When we get back to the garden, we veer toward the nook at the end and sit on the bench dusted

with real spider webs. The cool wood bites through my shirt.

I pull the hourglass stone from my pocket. Jace is watching me, so I hand it over to him. “I got this