Out on the brick patio, it was just the two of us, sitting among torn wrapping paper and empty gift boxes.

Vanessa reached across the table and rested her hand on my forearm.

Her nails were painted a pale pink that matched her expensive silk dress.

“Did you get enough pictures, honey?” she asked.

I rubbed my left collarbone, feeling the knot of muscle there.

The fabric of my own dress felt heavy in the late summer humidity.

“Could we talk about the schedule for next week?” I asked.

Vanessa tilted her head.