They settled down inside Umbirtos. Why did I bring them here? Wulf thought. He’d made memories with Mary Jane here. They’d eaten so much their first time. Seated toward the exit, Wulf reminisced on how he held the door open for Mary Jane and instead of enjoying the sight of her ass on the way out, she held a hand over her stomach and asked him to call an ambulance. They’d eaten too much food. He’d laughed as she mentioned the only way she’d make it out alive was on a stretcher.

Umbirtos had become a Tuesday night tradition. But they were here with two people that Mary Jane was visibly uncomfortable with. Shit, he was holding in his discomposure as he ordered a round of beers.

Mary Jane’s hand found Wulf’s under the table, but her eyes found Keegan’s right across from hers. Wulf’s hand tensed. This is her fiancé. The thought slammed into him. Peter had done something to Mary Jane prior to the crap that happened in Santo Cruces City. He glanced at the perfect people sitting across from them, perfectly good people.

Wulf’s mouth tightened, yet Mary Jane leaned her head on him. While the round of beers was being dispersed, he contemplated punching the shit out of his friend’s face. No warning just like he felt now. Quincy should have given him a warning.

Megan opened her turquoise and yellow paisley satchel. She started placing photos on the table.

“We were five when I got my tonsils taken out. We tricked that nurse something good. She didn’t want to give you ice cream because you weren’t a patient, so we switched places and kept her going.” Megan smiled through her tears as she hurriedly tried to prove her point.

She pulled out an old video-recorder. “Sorry, I wanted to make sure you viewed these, and nobody has VHS these days. Mal, I have videos. Your ballet classes and chess matches, my first time helping mom with a soufflé. Oh, and there’s one when you won first place for your chemical compound. Mr. Wulf, it was the entire school district. Mal received a scholarship for—”

“Fuck,” Mary Jane began, “we don’t have to do the videos, okay?”

Wulf stopped bashing Jones’s nose in in his brain.

Megan flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Mary Jane murmured. “I just had a little too much to drink tonight. My head is spinning. We should get together sometime later.”

“Well, I have Tylenol in my purse.” Megan started rummaging around and pulled out a bottle.

Her lips tightening into a line, Mary Jane snatched the two capsules from her sister’s hand. She swallowed a couple with a bottle of water, pushed the bottle over, and reclaimed Wulf’s hand again.

“Mal,” Keegan began, “remember when we came out here to plan for the wedding? We were going to get married in Cabo San Lucas, and then we were considering Puerto Vallarta. You do remember, don’t you?”

“No,” Mary Jane replied flatly.

As a body language analysis, Wulf knew she was lying. But Megan had photographic evidence of everything. His heart sank the moment she displayed a picture of the very painting Mary Jane bought from a vendor a few blocks away. It was odd enough for Megan to take a photo of a canvas on the wall, yet he understood her need to persuade Mallory and rouse her memory.

“How much did you buy it for?” Wulf asked, recalling that Mary Jane tried to pay the man too much for the canvas painting.

“Twenty bucks, why?” Keegan asked.

Wulf nodded. That was the exact amount that Mary Jane offered the vendor a few blocks away from their home, and the woman had laughed and said if they were in Puerto Vallarta, yes, but she gave them a deal instead Mary Jane had lied to him. She had to have recalled the amount she spent on the painting in the tourist area with Keegan. But Wulf was riddled with this question: why would she purchase the same painting over again?

Did Mary Jane purchase the painting while reminiscing about Keegan?

Or was it a subconscious effort and she did not recall?

Fuck! You’re reaching and being ridiculous, Wulf told himself. He tracked his hard gaze over Mary Jane for a nonverbal evidence of a lie.

“I didn’t know. Wulf, I did not know.” Mary Jane’s eyes searched his for a hint of softness. When his tensed jaw didn’t relax, she turned to their company. “Look, Megan, Keegan, this has all been too much.”

Wulf pulled his hand slowly from hers, and he took a sip of his beer. He tried to determine if Mary Jane was telling the truth, that maybe her mind had offered such a mundane part of her past. But it was growing harder to believe by the minute.

Keegan continued with, “We left the tourist site. Got a little place on Bogota Lane—I remember because that’s the capital of Colombia—and we stayed an extra week because you were mad at your dad. I think it’s around the corner from here.”

Bogota Lane was the same street where they currently resided. Wulf’s lips tensed slightly.

“I didn’t know, Wulf,” she whispered.

“But Dad wasn’t bad. He just didn’t think you two were ready for marriage,” Megan interjected.

Keegan continued at an attempt to jog her memory, pull her back to him. “Your mom finally talked you into returning, then…” His voice trailed off. Keegan realized he’d hit the end of the road and needed to make a U-turn toward cheerful times. “The happiest day of your life, I’ll never forget when you came home after…”

Wulf stood. “I’m going to let you all get reacquainted.”

“Thanks,” Megan said. “Maybe tomorrow we can all get together and watch the baby videos. Dad made them for every year of our lives. Every Christmas, Easter, our Christening, it’s all there.”

“That would be great.” Wulf gave a smile and walked toward the exit.