Cal was still sitting with a shocked look on his face. “All those times Mr. Banks watchedSouth Pacificon loop are starting to make a disturbing amount of sense.”
Angus suddenly slid in beside Rashida, cheeks stuffed, pointing to something green on his plate. “I don’t know what this is, but I would marry it. And this thing here—I’d fake my owndeath just to run away with it. That? That’s my soulmate. And this crispy thing here that looks like a pig’s ear—”
“Thatisa pig’s ear,” Rashida told him.
“I’m ready to build my whole life around it. Mortgage, dog, white picket fence. The works.”
I watched Rashida arch one brow. “That’s a lot of committing to something that could have been a purse. You okay, cupcake?”
“I’m great,” he said, mouth full. “I’m totally fine. Just like Basil over there, with his new-old-new girlfriend. Not that I even knew my best friend’s name was Basil. I always thought it was Mr. Banks.”
“His name is Basil,” Rashida said. “As well as Mr. Banks. One is his first name. One is his surname.”
“Is it, though?” I said to nobody.
“Whatever his name is,” Angus muttered. “He clearly has someone else to focus on now instead of me.”
“Okay, slow down with the green stuff… and the purple stuff… and the purse,” said Rashida. “You’re panic-eating.”
“You’repanic-eating.”
“I don’t even have a fork in my hand,” she said. “But I’m taking yours off you before you choke on your feelings.”
“That’s not even a thing.”
“Oh yes it is, because your best friend is apparently a love-struck former baron whose true love is a Hawaiian princess, and your emotional filing cabinet just caught fire.”
Angus stabbed another bite. “Okay, wow. That was specific.”
She snatched the fork off him.
He grunted at her.
She grunted back, then said, “Finish whatever’s in your mouth—because God knows I’m not sticking my fingers in there to get it out—then tell me how you’rereallyfeeling about this whole Mr. Banks reveal?”
Angus’s chewing slowed. His gaze flicked over to where Mr.Banks and Makani were still talking, heads close, completely absorbed in each other.
“I dunno,” he said, quieter now. “It’s just weird, I guess. Like… he’smine. You know? My Banksie. My bonkers best friend who thinks pigeons are secretly masters of sarcasm and once threw a farewell party for a sock he lost in a dryer three years earlier.”
Rashida nodded. “And now he’s someone else’s too.”
Angus stared at his plate. “Yeah.”
She nudged his arm with hers. “Hey. He’s still yours. This just means there’s more of him than we thought. And that’s not a bad thing.”
Angus sniffed. “I swear, if this ends with a wedding and I’m not the flower boy, I’m walking into the ocean.”
“You’ll be the whole floral theme,” Rashida said. “Now eat your feelings more slowly. Before you end up proposing to anything on your plate.”
I wanted to get up and give Angus a hug, but on the other side of me, Mrs. Mulroney had acquired a wooden cup of something local, potent, and clearly not her first.
“I would like to make a toast!” she announced loudly, raising her cup high. “To my dear friends Mal and Catt. And to the new chapter in their life with the lovely Nelly over there—”
“It’s Leilani,” I whispered harshly.
“That’s what I said. Nelli-leilei-elly. May your baby be rosy-cheeked and fair of skin.”
Suddenly, the party went quiet again. Not gradually—immediately. Like someone had hit mute on the entire luau.
