CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Brooke was drunk, dancing alone beside the table.
Jonah was also drunk. He kept giggling, resting his head on his arm braced on the table, his shoulders shaking. He would stop, stare off, and repeat.
It was past midnight now. The beer garden had closed. I was sure Kai bought out the rest of it. Most of the staff had gone by now, but the manager remained. She approached to let us know she’d kept a lone chef on in case we wanted anything from the kitchen.
Brooke’s hand shot up. “Ooh! Quesadillas! Please.”
People still walked along the wharf, but most everything closed at midnight. I looked over at bright lights moving around at the end of the pier—some kind of event. We had watched couples walk past us in formal dresses and tuxedos. Glittering gowns. Pink. Black silk
