Goodnight, My Angel - Georgeotown Book IV - 3. GMA III

Over time, most of Owen’s clothes found their way to the closet in CJ’s basement bedroom at the Georgetown townhouse. He finished moving out of his own place days before the wedding, when the young couple took over an apartment at the rehabbed and repurposed Georgetown Theater.

Since storage at their new abode was not as ample as what they were accustomed to, CJ left behind a good chunk of his t-shirt collection. The beneficiary was Ritchie, who was quite happy to accept his older brother’s discards. Three months after the wedding and the move, convenience coupled with constant harping from César and Brett, found CJ and Owen eating dinner with the family more often than not.

“Are you gonna turn into a spook? I sure as shit hope not.” Brett’s question made CJ roll his eyes. The retired Marine Corps captain turned real estate developer might have been CJ’s adoptive father, but the similarity of their humor could lead one to believe they shared the same DNA. Brett Andrew Davenport was often accused by his husband of acting more like their barely-out-of-his-teens son than a mid-thirties adult should. Echoes of his youth as a wealthy, carefree, California surfer-boy rippled through his personality.

“I don’t know... Maybe?” CJ’s sideways glance and smirk presaged a potential battle of wits.

“Here we go again.” César shook his head, pointing at his husband. “You need to stop questioning everything he does. And you”—he swung his finger around and aimed it at his son—“you need to stop teasing him so much.”

From his usual spot at the head of the table, Ritchie pontificated on the matter. “You should do it, CJ. I think it’d be sooo cool to have a spy in the family. We could learn how to kill people without leaving evidence and stuff.”

César’s attention shifted to their youngest one. “And you need to stop reading all those spy novels, and watching those silly action movies.” Possibly to compensate for his husband’s occasional childish behavior, César Marcos Abelló often tried to be the voice of reason during domestic interactions. The accountant and chief financial officer of the various family-owned enterprises became a parent at twenty; CJ suspected early fatherhood had helped shape his more sedate personality.

“Mate, I don’t think he’d be doing any of that covert stuff if he went to work for them.” Owen knew more of his husband’s plans than the three other men did; he told CJ he would support whatever decision he came to.

During the wedding, his old friend Jacob Cruz again approached CJ, and brought up the possibility of applying for a position with the CIA. When the Georgetown University School of Foreign Service alumnus called to invite him to lunch, CJ accepted.

“Look, dads, I’m not saying anything will come out of this. I still want to work at the State Department. I’d like to serve the country as a diplomat. That’s my first choice. However, we all know how the administration feels concerning diplomacy. Even though they’re still recruiting and hiring, there’s a gazillion unfilled positions at State. Who knows what the situation’s gonna be like in two years about the time I graduate. Or how long it’ll take the next President and Secretary of State to rebuild the diplomatic corps.

“And although he’s bashed our intelligence services often enough, at least the idiot in the White House hasn’t tried to cripple those agencies the same way. So I’m gonna go have lunch with Spike and meet whoever he wants to introduce me to. I’ll listen, but I’ll make no promises. Anyway, how many people get to visit CIA headquarters at Langley? Hell if I’m gonna pass up the opportunity.”

 

“So, you named the Jeep, Defiant; the motorcycle, Hunter; that stupid gun, Lola; and this is Sparky. What’s the name of the house?” Taisha Kravitz Abelló sat in the passenger seat of the Tesla with CJ behind the wheel. Their spouses had been relegated to the back. They were on the way to an opening night reception at an art gallery before going out to dinner.

A little over four years after she began working as Brett’s assistant at Third Line Development, and a year and a half after marrying her boss’ nephew and company project manager, the dark-skinned woman was entrenched as a beloved member of the Abelló-Davenport family. Her sensible, no-nonsense attitude was often on display whenever her husband Rod, her brother-in-law Randy, and their younger cousin CJ behaved as children.

“Actually, I was the one who named this car. As for the house, he hasn’t given it a name yet.” Owen reached forward and patted his husband on the head. “He’s being a good boy. I told him it had to be a joint decision. And that we should wait until we live there.”

“Good boy?” Rod sputtered the words. “Damn, cuz, he’s already got you trained!” Although more somber than his brother in general, Rodney Sebastián Abelló shed his professionalism around his cousin. The civil engineer was not above verbally sparring with CJ if the opportunity arose.

“Fuck you, Rod. I don’t need no training. And I’d be careful if I were you. I spent the day at the CIA and may have picked up a trick or two on how to hurt people.”

“Yeah, like I’m scared. What’d you do over there anyway?”

“I could tell you all about it… Of course, I’d have to kill you after.”

Taisha’s exasperation apparently reached the point she had to intervene. “What is it with you Abelló men? Do you always have to turn everything into a testosterone-fueled battle? I’m used to CJ and Randy going at it, but this is a little too close to home for me. Rod, you better behave or you’ll be on the sofa tonight.”

CJ laughed. “Who’s well-trained now, cuz?”

“You shut up too. Or I’ll tell Ozzie to make you sleep on your couch.” The woman telegraphed her annoyance well enough for the men to chuckle. “Here’s a novel idea: we all try to behave as adults tonight. This is a rare treat and I want to enjoy myself, not babysit.” She went from annoyed to threatening to placating, before ending in surprised. “I still can’t believe you agreed to join us, CJ. Friday nights you’re usually doing the martial arts thing with Thiago.”

The mention of his friend gave CJ the opening he was looking for. “He’s taking a temporary break from the dojo. Picked up a few extra nights at the pharmacy since he’s trying to save a little extra money before the baby arrives. Have you talked to Nadine?” He caught a glimpse of the woman narrowing her eyes before replying.

“Nice fishing expedition… Sorry to disappoint you. All I know’s the same you said Thiago told you. Nadine’s parents objected to an abortion. They convinced her to carry to term, and place the baby up for adoption. She has no desire to become a mother now. So her signing over full parental rights wasn’t a complete surprise.”

Once Nadine returned from her parents’ home and informed Thiago of her decision, his friends took action. Ethan Feldman came into town for a weekend and spent most of it sharing knowledge he had acquired in family law with Owen. Together, they drafted a plan of action and the first step was a paternity test to confirm the child was Thiago’s. Nadine was at first offended they would consider the possibility she had slept with other men, but capitulated in the end.

“We haven’t talked much since you two recruited me to convince her the paternity test was a good idea.” Although reluctant at the time CJ and Owen approached her, Taisha eventually agreed to get involved. “I think she decided I was too close to you guys and we couldn’t be BFFs anymore.”

The men also elicited help from Helen Mookjai. They asked her to introduce the expectant mother to her gynecologist, and convinced the physician to waive any charges not covered by health insurance. CJ and Owen secretly arranged to pay those amounts.

“Helen did tell me Nadine’s met the OBGYN. Although all those privacy rules meant she didn’t have details, the doctor mentioned everything was going well. As far as I know, Nadine still wants to move to California after graduation. What surprised me with this whole thing was Thiago’s reaction. Last thing I expected was he nixing the adoption plan and wanting to raise the kid himself. I hope he’s ready to become a single father.”

 

All Squad members and the immediate family had been to the Georgetown Theatre apartment at one point or another since CJ and Owen took possession. They were now inviting friends over on a regular basis with some coming over for dinner and others, like members of the Scandals Rugby Football Club, gathering to watch sporting events. Those occasions made the place seem small with a bunch of muscle bears packed inside.

“Hi, Uncle Ozzie.” Nearing his third birthday, Gamon Mookjai was a typical toddler; shy around strangers, he was comfortable with adults he had met and dealt with before. The boy melted into Owen’s hug, lowering his eyes when Gina stared at him. His exotic features, a blend of his father’s Thai heritage and his mother’s all-American looks, often drew praise from strangers.

“Hi yourself, mate. I want you to meet our friend Gina. You’ll like her. She’s nice.”

Gina Nichols, the Georgetown University student from Alaska, had become a close friend after approaching CJ during his involvement in the 2016 presidential campaign. “My, you’re a cutie. You’ll be breaking hearts when you’re a little older.”

Finishing dinner preparations, CJ watched from the kitchen. He and Owen were ready to execute the plan hatched at Elizabeth Liston’s bedside prior to her death. Tonight’s gathering was another step in the implementation.

“Hey, guys, thanks for having us. The place looks great.” Keeping an eye on her son, Helen kissed CJ on the cheek, and placed a bottle of vodka on the counter. “We weren’t brave enough to bring wine. What with Ozzie owning a winery and you two bringing back cases of the stuff from the honeymoon. You’ll have to make do with the harder stuff.”

“Thanks, Helen. I told Chatri you didn’t need to bring anything.”

Chatri Mookjai was the first friend CJ made after the move to Washington. The Georgetown University School of Medicine graduate became his personal physician when he finished his residency and joined the medical practice founded by Prescott Harding and Matt Calhoun. His wife Helen had already worked as their head nurse for several years at that point. Both hailed from Seattle, Washington but felt comfortable in the nation’s capital. They decided to make it their permanent home, and raise their children there.

“Yeah, you try telling that to my wife. She’s big on proper manners.” Chatri pointed at an open bottle of Purple Flame chardonnay sitting in an ice bucket. “Is that for now, or do I have to wait for dinner?”

CJ reached up and opened the cabinet above the refrigerator. “There’s glasses. Help yourself, bud. And pour some for your better half.”

“I’ll pass,” Helen said, patting her stomach. “My alcohol consumption over the next few months is restricted. I’d rather have a glass with our meal. I’ll take a little club soda if you have it.” There was a moment of silence before everyone started talking over each other. Exclamations of surprise and congratulatory comments flowing one over the other. “Thank you! So, yeah, we just found out Gamon’s going to have a little brother or sister. I’m due in May.”

Grabbing the glass of wine he had been nursing while cooking, CJ raised it in salute and downed the contents. “Damn, next year’s gonna be babypalooza around here. First Thiago, and now you. We better buy stock in a diaper company, Oz.”

“Are you rushing the celebration?” Everyone turned toward the front door. Ethan, who handled most of the couple’s legal matters, had traveled from New York the previous afternoon. He had run out of contact lens solution and walked to a nearby pharmacy when CJ began prepping dinner.

“Not quite.” Owen placed Gamon on the floor; the toddler trotted over to his father and raised his arms asking to be picked up. “We just found out Helen and Chatri are having another baby.”

While the meal finished cooking, they sat in the living area, staring out the large front window while sipping their cocktails. Since there was no proper dining table in the apartment, they scattered a multitude of pillows on the floor around the large coffee table where the meal was served.

While enjoying dessert, Ethan reached for the briefcase he had placed next to the sofa. “Although I love the opportunity to spend time with friends and it’s been a lovely evening, we all know the reason behind the gathering.” Ethan handed Gina a manila envelope. “Inside there’s the proposed contract. There’s also a list of three attorneys I think you could work with. I’ve talked to all of them, explained the situation, and made it clear they’re to send bills to my office. If after you talk to them you don’t feel comfortable with any one, give me a call. My business card’s in there too. I’ll try to find you some other names.”

“Guess it’s my turn.” Chatri reached for his wallet and withdrew a business card. “Call the office and make an appointment. I’ll stay late one day or go in on a Saturday if that works best for you. Once we know there are no general health issues, we’ll hook you up with the right physician. I’ll do it the same way Ethan’s handling finding you an attorney. There won’t be a charge to you either.”

Gina chuckled, everyone’s attention on her. “Damn, I didn’t realize I was going to have homework after tonight.”

“Hang on one minute.” CJ stood and walked over to the wall unit returning with a folded piece of paper. “This is a copy of the wire transfer to Ethan’s trust account. He’ll hold it in escrow.”

“Anybody want a little Port?” Owen pointed at the wine storage cabinet tucked next to the large wall unit. “Somebody gave us a couple of bottles and a crystal decanter as a wedding present. I think this is a great occasion to crack one of those babies open. We can drink a toast in celebration of my sister.”

 

On Tuesday, the couple was at the Capital One Arena for a Maroon 5 concert. CJ loved their music and it became his personal soundtrack for days after. He also liked the fact Adam Levine, the lead singer, was not shy in declaring his love for his gay brother. Sitting with his husband on a late Friday train to New York City, CJ tapped his foot to the beat of “It Was Always You.” As it always did, the song infused him with warmth. He always thought of Owen when he heard it, even more so since the wedding.

Amtrak served Dunkin Donuts coffee in disposable cups on its trains. CJ disliked the former and Owen despised the latter; metal travel mugs where a permanent fixture in the outside mesh-pockets of their backpacks. CJ chugged the remainder of his latte and slipped the empty container back in its holding place.

He glanced upwards and sideways, past the story he was reading on his tablet, and noticed Owen with his eyes closed, head resting against the seat. Whatever he was listening to made his husband smile. He nudged the man’s foot with his own. “What you listening to?”

The Aussie removed the headphones and scrunched his face. “Huh? I didn’t hear you.”

“I asked what you were listening to. It’s making you smile.”

“Oh! An old song by Birds of Tokyo. ‘Lanterns’ makes me think of you. Of us. It’s about someone embarking on a journey to a place they’ve never been. About fighting for what’s right. It talks about I, but switches to we. There’s a line about being young and ready with nothing to fear that reminds me of us. And you? Listening to Adam Levine and Maroon 5?”

Owen was well aware of CJ’s tendency to play a musician’s songs ad nauseam after attending a concert. “You know me. And funny thing’s the song I was listening to made me think of us too. I may have played hard to get, but it was always you. I’m glad I came to my senses.”

 

“CJ! OWEN!” The shouts carried through the cacophony inside The Stumble Inn. CJ saw Ethan Feldman waving at them and followed Owen toward their friend. They had agreed to meet at the sports bar at the corner of 2nd Avenue and 76th Street, two blocks away from the apartment.

“You’re looking good, Ethan.” The Aussie hugged his fellow law school graduate who still wore business attire; he had apparently come to the watering hole directly from the office.

“You guys do too. Like I told you in DC last weekend, married life agrees with you.” Ethan repeated the bro hug with CJ and motioned for a server. “Sean’s pissed at you two. Says it’s bullshit we’re not hanging out in Chelsea.”

CJ waited until the scantily clad young woman took their order. “He’ll get over it. If we’d gone to PRIME tonight, we’d prolly ended up dragging home real late and drunk.” Sean Brody, Ethan’s boyfriend, bartended at the 9th Avenue club the Washington couple frequented while in New York. “We’re in the City like every other month. We’ll spend plenty of time together in December when we return.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t at the rehearsal dinner tonight. Out of town guests tend to be invited.”

“We were.” Owen closed the menu he had been scanning. “CJ talked our way out of it.”

“We had to come to the wedding—” CJ paused while the server delivered three, foam-topped, frosty glasses of Brooklyn Lager and took their food order. “We like Cristina. Plus, her mom would’ve been upset if we’d skipped it. Susana’s always been the best. But I can only take so much of the groom’s epic douchebaggery.”

Ethan’s laughter attracted the attention of the women at the next high table. “Don’t look now, but the girls next to us are checking us out.”

“Don’t worry, mate. We’ll protect you.” Owen smirked when Ethan rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Damien Prado’s a tosser. We prefer to limit our exposure to him.”

“Exposure? Is he contagious? He woulda prolly behaved tonight. I’ve only dealt with him a couple of times, but I think he’d be concerned about creating a scene at his own wedding. He seems too focused on image.”

“Yeah, well, he’s been a prick whenever Ozzie and I’ve been around him. Let’s change the subject. We’re really thankful for the help with Thiago. But like we mentioned last weekend, you still haven’t billed us for this project.”

“There’s no bill to send.”

“That ain’t right. You worked and you should be paid. Send us a bill.”

Ethan looked incredulous. “Really, CJ? You think I’m going to charge for a few hours spent on behalf of a friend? I thought you knew me better. Thiago’s a fellow Squad member. We all look out for each other. What I did for him, I’d do for any of the others in our group. Money’s not everything as you often say. Friends—Family—are a hell of a lot more important.”

“It doesn’t feel right, bud. The reason you got involved was ’cause I asked Ozzie to call you. Send us a bill. You know we can afford to pay you.”

“Fuck you! And fuck your money.” Ethan’s angry eruption surprised CJ. “I’m tired of you thinking you have to solve all your friends’ problems. Yeah we know you’re rich. But if you’re too stupid to realize some of us don’t give a shit about that…”

The words hung in the air and CJ was unsure what to say, where to look, or what to do. A glance told him his husband was not coming to his defense. The Aussie leaned back and crossed his arms, his face revealed nothing. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t…”

“Look, you’re wealthy, you know it, and you have no compunction about lavish spending. Funny thing’s you do it just as easily, if not more so, on others. You’re generous to a fault, CJ. But not all of us can afford to throw money around the way you do.” A smirk creased Ethan’s lips. “At least not yet. If ever. But we care about our friends as much as you do.

“So, if I can’t afford to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars to help out Thiago, let me spend a few hours doing it. Stop trying to control everything and everyone around you. Let some of us do our part. Hell, you defer to Ozzie all the time. Give the rest of us in the Squad a chance. Give us a break and defer to us now and then.

“And for the record, it’s not me who’s not charging. The firm’s allowing me to work on it pro bono. When I approached the managing partner, described the case, and explained the relationship, he approved my time. You have no idea how many brownie points I earned when you became a client.

“You signed the release, so you know we do background checks on all potential clients. Your net worth and reputation make you two the type of people we love to represent. Even if we don’t do that much for your families, the potential’s there for a lucrative relationship as far as the higher-ups are concerned.”

CJ had a lot to think about. “Sorry. I sometimes get carried away. I won’t bring it up again.”

 

Coffee, orange juice, and a flat bagel with a schmear were first breakfast the following morning. The second one—a real meal—would follow their jog through Central Park. Ear buds in place, the two set out from their apartment building under clear skies; the cool October morning was perfect for a run. One foot in front of the other, they kept pace with each other without a word exchanged. They had their music, their thoughts, and their frequent glances.

The familiar circuit covered approximately two miles, traversing Strawberry Fields, skirting The Ramble, and ending at the bronze Alice in Wonderland statue where they cooled down and stretched. Later in the day, kids and tourists would scamper through and over the montage of characters from the Lewis Carroll children’s classic, scrambling for position to take pictures atop the mushrooms or next to Alice, the Mad Hatter, or the rabbit.

“Ready to go home and shower?” Owen’s brilliant smile was a worthy companion to the sun—both brightened their surroundings.

“Actually…” CJ hesitated for a moment. “It’s nice out. Can we hang for a few? I wanna talk about something.”

Owen leaned his back against the edge of the Mad Hatter’s bronze top hat and crossed his arms. “What’s up?”

“It’s what Ethan said last night. About me trying to control everything and thinking I can fix it all with money. Is he right?”

“Yes.” The swift response was not unexpected. CJ had mulled over their friend’s words from the previous evening while he ran. “At times you do.”

“Thanks for being honest.”

“Always, CJ. Always. I’ll be honest with you even if I have to say stuff you might not want to hear. But I’ll temper Ethan’s criticism with the fact you always have good intentions. You want to help people. Your friends in particular. And as you did with Clinton’s campaign, you throw yourself into everything with gusto.”

“Funny, I was thinking back to the campaign while running. You realize since then I’ve done very little volunteering? Yeah, I give money to support causes, but I’ve slacked off otherwise. I wanted to get so far away from politics… I don’t know. I think I need the pendulum to swing in the other direction a bit.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“We?”

“Of course. I mean, we don’t have to do everything together... But if you’re thinking of volunteering somewhere, I might be interested.”

CJ reached a hand to Owen’s neck, tilted his head upwards, and kissed his husband. “I definitely married the right man. Let’s go home, shower, and walk somewhere for a big breakfast. Let me think overnight, and we can discuss what we might want to do during the train ride tomorrow.”

 

“Are you sure they won’t mind us being there early? I thought this was for family and people in the wedding party.” Owen reached over and straightened Chipper’s bow tie. Cristiano Humberto Israel Pereira, Jr. was the same height as CJ but weighed some twenty pounds less. He was fit instead of skinny, but lacked the bulk his buddy had developed due to time spent lifting weights. “You look great, mate. You’ll be the hottest of the groomsmen.”

Their friend, an aspiring musician and student at the University of Miami Frost School of Music, had flown in from Florida the previous day and headed directly to the rehearsal dinner for his sister’s wedding. He was staying in the apartment with Owen and CJ, who were asleep as he crawled in. He had still been in bed when they went for their morning run. Returning to the apartment, Chipper had not wanted to do anything; he had a hangover and wanted to rest so he could drink again that evening.

“Exactly! They’re taking pictures and you two have to be in at least one with me. You’re family. You’re my brothers.” Chipper fingered the white silk scarf CJ draped over his shoulders and grinned. “Nice… You should have bought me one of these. Anyway, last night at the rehearsal dinner both my parents asked about you. They wondered why you weren’t there.”

CJ turned off the sound system, grabbed his keys from the hook by the door, and followed the other two men to the elevator. They had reserved a car to take them the near-twenty blocks to the wedding venue. “Yeah, but that’s your parents. I’m thinking the groom might not have been as enthusiastic. I figured out he’s a control freak who makes my dad look like a wild lunatic.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. He also asked.” Chipper held the elevator’s door open while CJ stood frozen, his jaw dropping as far as it could.

“Close your mouth, mate.” Owen placed a hand on his husband’s back and prodded him inside. “You’re making that shit up, Chipper. Aren’t you?”

“No! Serious. He wanted to make sure you were showing up. He said he was looking forward to seeing you again.”

“What the fuck?” CJ acknowledged the doorman with a nod and a wave as he stepped into the crisp autumn twilight. “The guy’s said something to piss me off each time we’ve met, and I haven’t been that friendly after.”

“Yeah, but my sister’s marrying no dummy. He talked to me a lot during your wedding. He kept bringing up the fact you had two former presidents and a bunch of Senators and Representatives from both parties there. Seeing Eva Longoria and the video messages Cher and Jennifer Lopez sent had his eyes bugging out. Then he met Patrick Ewing. Damien grew up in New York City and he’s a Knicks’ fan. He knew who the man was real well.”

“That’s it? That’s all it takes to impress him? Meet a few famous people and he stops being condescending?”

Chipper took the car’s front seat while his friends slipped into the back. “I may have mentioned something else that sparked his interest.”

“What’d you tell him? I bet it had something to do with money. The guy’s struck me as a wealth snob.”

“Got it in one, Ozzie. I brought up the fact César and Brett signed the letter sent to Congress last year by wealthy people. The one where they asked not to have their taxes lowered. I think that’s when it hit him you guys were uber-rich.”

“He’s gonna be nice to me because my dads have money?” CJ knew wealth impressed certain individuals but still found it hard to process.

“It ain’t just your dads, dude. You have plenty of your own by now.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t done shit for it. I’ve made a few investments on my own and made a profit, but most of my money came from the trusts. The one established by great-grandfather Davenport primarily. Hell, if Papa hadn’t adopted me, giving him a legitimate heir, all that would have also ended up in the foundation.”

“And that’s just it. Damien doesn’t come from a wealthy family. He made it all himself on Wall Street. You can trace yours back through the Davenports. To someone like him, old money holds special attraction. He wants to be included in those circles.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, mate.” Owen’s hand-squeeze was a comforting move. “How many times have the dads mentioned some people would want to be around us because of money? You’ve been bloody lucky our close friends don’t give a crap. You’re not always flashy with it, so that helps.”

Founded in the early 1900s, the Friars Club evolved from gatherings by a group of press agents who met at a restaurant on a regular basis. Over the years, membership expanded to include first the agents’ clients in the entertainment business, then augmented with entrepreneurs and tycoons. At some point, they purchased the stately mansion that served as their headquarters. Famous for risqué roasts of its more famous associates, the club made the facility available to members for special events.

After Chipper’s rendition of “At Last” for the first dance, and the bride and groom’s dance with their parents, Chip Pereira approached CJ and Owen at the bar. “Hello, guys. I haven’t seen you since CJ’s high school graduation. Congratulations on your wedding.”

“Thank you, Chip.” CJ shook the proffered hand. His resentment over the Argentinian-born banker stepping out on Dr. Matt Calhoun years before faded over time; he learned not all relationships were like the one his dads’ had. Not everyone was destined to be in a long-term, monogamous partnership the way he hoped to be too.

Cristiano Humberto Israel Pereira was a philanderer, cheated on his wife with men, divorced her, and moved to Washington. He eventually did the same to Matt, with a guy just a few years older than his son, and once again escaped town after being found out. He now lived in Tampa.

“You both look very dapper and very happy. Marriage suits you.”

“Thanks, mate. We work at it. It’s been just a few months, but we figured even before the wedding that it takes more than sex and living together to make it work.”

“You’re lucky if you’ve already discovered that, Owen. It took me forever. It’s not something you get to do for a while and then forget. Relationships are hard. You have to work at them all the time.”

“CJ! Owen! I’m so happy to see you.” Susana Pereira looked resplendent in a lavender gown; she had repaired the mascara streaks caused by tears shed while her daughter exchanged vows. Her return to Buenos Aires years before precipitated the crisis that led to her son relocating to D.C. At the time, Chipper was too upset with his father for once again destroying a relationship by having an affair; the teen refused to move to Argentina with her or to Florida with Chip.

“You look fantastic, Susana.” Owen kissed the woman on both cheeks. “I saw you tear up during the ceremony. Reminded me of my Mum at our wedding.”

“Chipper mentioned you spent your honeymoon in Napa touring vineyards. You have to tell me all about it.” Interlacing her arms with the young men, she led them away from the bar. “Come. I want your opinion on the wine we’ll be serving with dinner.”