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thing missing is putting them on a stick and deep-frying them, and I’m sure some enterprising vendor with a funnel cake concession will take care of that.”
    â€œTell you what. I’ll do what I can to avoid her. How’s that? Will that keep you and Amanda and Grady and everyone else in the state of Colorado happy?”
    Harris eyed him. “I don’t see the need for any rules and regulations beyond don’t cross the Cronut. You keep that one commandment and we’ll all be the very happiest of campers.” He leaned in. “Don’t think for a moment I mean that literally. This gay doesn’t camp. Never has. Never will. Which is a feat in this state, since you can’t swing a Birkin bag without hitting a camper. Although—thank God—Aspen’s a veritable haven of civility and culture in an endless wasteland of rock climbers and cyclists. I can walk down the street and browse Chanel, and an attractive bartender will make me a mojito instead of handing me a Red Bull.”
    â€œI take it you won’t be fly fishing with us tomorrow?”
    â€œFishing’s different. Fishing can result in food, and food I can do and do well. And when it’s done, I can go back home immediately instead of sleeping on an air mattress, besieged by insects and being an Atkins snack for a mountain lion. Oh, look.”
    Finn followed Harris’s gaze to the dance floor, where Bethany was dancing with Grady. A small dart of jealousy stung him. Didn’t see that coming. Shake it off. He’s married, and she’s not yours anymore.
    â€œHe seems like a nice guy,” Finn said, still watching them. Still wishing they’d stop dancing together because married or no, Grady was a very handsome man and Finn could tell Bethany liked him. And that wasn’t even counting the formidable movie star part.
    â€œHe is, for the most part,” Harris said.
    Finn decided he ought to look at Harris and stop torturing himself. “For the most part?”
    â€œScratch that. He’s the nicest guy in the free world. He makes Tom Hanks look like Rasputin. I have to talk trash about him or his head will get too big.”
    Throughout these sentences, Finn thought Harris was looking at him too intently, as though he could read his mind. Could he tell Finn was jealous of Grady? Was his expression broadcasting this particular insecurity about his ex-wife? I need to be more careful, just in case.
    Finn asked, “Will Grady and Amanda be around for the weekend’s activities?”
    â€œI think so, or at least some of them. Since they live here in the summer, they might pass on a few things they can do whenever they want, but I believe they’re planning on dining with the lot of you. In fact, one of the activities is a cocktail party at Aspen Creek—that’s Grady’s place. Well, Amanda’s, too, now. You should come for that—if only to see the family manse.”
    Gazing out of the corner of his eye, Finn was relieved—more than he wanted to admit—to see Bethany and Grady returning to the table. Bethany was laughing, throwing her head back, which meant she was having a great time. Which was great. Wasn’t it?
    Harris was saying something about Grady and Amanda’s house, but Finn hardly heard him. He was watching Bethany, who said something to Amanda standing next to her. Without thinking, he said to Harris, “Excuse me, will you?” He ordered a gin and tonic and another club soda. Then set sail for his ex-wife.

    Finn came up behind Bethany and said, “You nearly killed Harris. He might press charges.”
    She whipped her head around like a mustang spotting a wolf and flattened her palm over her heart. “Like how you just nearly killed me? Jesus, Finn, you’re like a ninja.”
    â€œSorry. But a herd of elephants could have snuck up on you.” He smiled at Amanda. “Hey, Amanda.” He handed Beth the