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The fact that I knew her better than I knew myself made it easy to hear the tight strain in her voice that the others missed. “I haven’t landed on a career path yet.”

If I didn’t know any better, I would think Easton caught it, too. His expression was still stoically blank, but there was a softness to his tone. Or maybe I was hearing things. “There’s time. Let me know if you want some guidance or advice. Even if you don’t want to sell your soul by going into law like me, I have some connections.”

Man, he must really want to land Doug as a client.

“Thank you,” Greer said with a polite smile.

“I didn’t realize that was your alma mater. She’ll definitely take you up on that.” Doug had far more enthusiasm than she’d been able to muster. His eyes grew bright, and he looked two seconds away from scheduling a dozen meetings between the pair so he could set his only child on a path to success. “In fact?—”

“Dad, it’s movie night,” Greer cut in, her tone holding a hint of warning.

“Right, right.” He gave her a placating smile before shrugging at Easton. “We’ll have to have you over for a proper dinner soon. Or maybe you two could meet up for coffee once she’s settled. Or an office tour.”

“Dad.” That time there was no hint. It was all warning.

He held his hands up in mock surrender.

“I’ll leave you my card,” Easton told her.

They talked about her remaining courses while everyone finished preparing their food. Once we were done, we carried the trays out to the built-in pizza oven. Doug got the first two going before giving Easton a tour of the expansive setup. The OGs took their drinks across the yard to the patio, stealing the best seats as Eve used the controls to lower the screen and start the projector.

We did our usual job of manning the oven, pulling pizzas out before starting the next batch. In between, Greer and Josh hung on each other, and Wren and I did our best to ignore them.

“Let me see your nails,” I said, belatedly noticing they’d changed from a couple days before. She’d been doing her own nails since we were kids and could do intricate designs better than I could simply paint mine.

She held out her hands. One had different color tips with a strip under to kind of resemble crayons. The nails on the other were lined like paper. “I figured school themed for our last first day. Too much?”

Too much panic at that thought?

Yes.

Too much otherwise?

“Not at all,” I said.

She moved away to nudge one of the pies over so the side didn’t char. “Are you packed?”

“Yup.”

“Like actually packed or mostly packed?”

“Actually.” At the all-knowing stare she gave, I tacked on, “Except for a few things.”

She shook her head. “So you’ll be frantically calling us at midnight tomorrow to help you unload.”

“Or midnight tonight to help me load. Either way.” I shrugged on my lie since that part was done—mostly. “Or both. Why limit ourselves?”

She let out a horrified gasp. “You’re still not loaded? It took mehoursto fit everything in The Beast, Mads.”

Contrary to what the intimidating label suggested, she drove a small RAV4. It’d earned the nickname because it was loud when it started.

And when it was cold.

And if she drove too fast.

Or too slow.

As I’d predicated all those years ago, Dina hadn’t let John buy her anything exorbitant. The used vehicle was loaded with safety features and practical frills.