Ella had been notorious for her love of cake, and over the years, it had become their little social thing. Her way of being part of the group, even when she didn’t do much socially with them. They’d celebrate things large and small over cake and have an excuse to just hang out and enjoy each other.

She took a bite and had to close her eyes to have a private moment with her taste buds. “This is a whole lot of yum on one fork, I gotta say.”

“You like? Karen said to let her know what you thought. She was thinking of calling it the Ella.” Adrian put a second slice on his plate.

“Karen, huh? You still seeing her?” Karen was the owner of a bakery in West Seattle. Adrian had met her when they were planning Elise and Brody’s wedding, and they’d gone out here and there.

As he’d spoken, Cope had moved so that he rested behind her, her body leaning against his, his arm wrapped around her waist.

“I like her. She likes me. She’s not looking for more than dinner now and again, and I’m too busy to be looking for anything else right now.” Adrian shrugged.

“She makes a mean chocolate cake.” Elise refilled Rennie’s milk as she spoke, and Ella found herself charmed by the routine of mother and daughter.

“She totally does.” Adrian agreed quite cheerfully and went back to his.

Ella snorted a laugh and absently began to straighten things up until the café’s new manager sent her the stink eye. “Nope. Not your job anymore. Sit and eat cake. I can wipe a counter down.”

So she sat eating cake, drinking coffee and just hanging out, feeling freer than she had in a very long time.

“So I have a question.”

Ella looked back to Cope and wanted to sigh wistfully at how pretty he was. “What’s that?”

“Clearly you’re Irish. If the red hair and freckles hadn’t been a clue, you having a brother named Mick would do it. But Tipton?”

She laughed and turned up her Irish. “Ah, ’tis a complicated tale, that. Mick’s given name is Michael, but everyone calls him Mick. For my uncle on my dad’s side and my great-grandfather on my mother’s side. His father came from Ireland. He was a laborer when he arrived and eventually settled in New York. Then my grandfather was out here when he was in the navy, and he came back after the war and got a job at Boeing. His daughter, my mom, Moira, met James Tipton while they were juniors in high school. James comes from a family where his grandmother came from Ireland to work at her uncle’s clothing shop in Rhode Island. Now, here’s the great shame.” Ella shook her head mock-sadly. “The man who won the lovely Rose Byrne’s heart and who became James’s grandfather was himself an immigrant from England. William Tipton. We forgive him, though, because he let his children be raised up as they should be: Irish and Catholic.”

Cope studied her a moment before deciding it was all right to laugh. “I can’t believe I never heard that story before.”

“My grandmother used to say that my grandfather was just as Irish as his children and wife were. My family sort of takes their Irish seriously, but not so much it’s not a laugh.”

“All right then. Now I know what not to bring up when I see them next.”

“Just keep an eye on the nearest exit. They do like to talk about it. A lot. You should see holidays when we’re all together, generations of us. It’s loads of gingers with freckles. We do have some goth ones in the generation just younger than mine. Take a moment to imagine Hot Topic black hair dye on someone with my complexion.”

Cope choked on his cake, and she patted his back. “I can’t believe you just called yourself a ginger. I mean, you totally are.”

“I wasn’t aware it was a secret.”

He looked up, his mirth gone, the intensity back again. “Some people get offended by the term. God, do I love red hair.”

Oh, the stuff he said! She took a deep breath, simply enjoying the back-and-forth with him. “Well, it’s a good thing for me, huh?”

“I plan to make it so, yes.”

“Whooo. You’re really good with all this. I feel like a total amateur by comparison.”

He kissed her fingertips. “You do just fine.”

Before she could make an idiot out of herself, Rennie bounded over and pulled up a chair. “I have a school fund-raiser coming up. Can I put you down for a box of these fine chocolate treats?” She thrust a paper at them.

“I most definitely would. How about I take five boxes? That way I can give some to my mom. She likes fine chocolate treats too.” Cope pulled money from his wallet as Rennie flirted with him. The little girl was as bold as Erin but graceful like her mother.

“I’ll take three. I’ll give some to my mother too. I’ll be sure to tell her it’s from you.” Ella grinned.

Rennie neatly printed Ella’s and Cope’s names before getting down to the business of some good school gossip. Ella was not only charmed by Rennie but by the way Cope was with her. So gentle and silly. It was funny how all the men she saw on a regular basis were scary on the outside, big and braw, but gentle, truly kind and careful with the people they loved. It was disarming, Andrew Copeland’s sweetness made her gooey and witless in a most delicious way.

“Do you need a ride home?” Cope asked her later as they left the café, full of cake and coffee.

Her smile was pretty much the same one she’d had on her face all afternoon. “No, but thanks. I’ve got my car here. I had to run some stuff by my parents’ house for Mick. My mother is doing a big care package for him. And you don’t care.” She laughed.