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“Men refusing to lose?”

“Mostly.”

“Two millionaires,” I say, “bidding on a weekend neither of them wants.”

“It’s not about the weekend.”

“No. It is about hockey.”

Peyton looks at me a moment longer than she needs to, then back at her husband.

“Don’t tell Ryan you noticed.”

Colt raises the bid again.

I look at him.

“Do we want to go to Fredericksburg?”

“Now you’re asking?”

“Do we?”

“No.”

I take his phone.

“You are finished.”

“Marriage is oppressive.”

“You proposed it.”

“That feels like something I should’ve considered.”

“You had eight days.”

“Not enough, apparently.”

I put the phone in my bag.

A man steps toward us while Colt is still looking at my bag.

I recognize him vaguely from the cocktail hour. Dark suit, no tie now. He looks at Colt with the easy familiarity of someone who expects to be remembered.

“Riley.”

Colt turns.

“Hey.”

The man offers his hand.

“Foundation golf last year.”

Colt takes it.

“Right.”