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afraid, Whitfield, you can wait outside.”
    “Nice try, Parker, but I’m not letting you swill all the champagne on your own. I’ve developed a taste for the finer things in life over the past few years, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
    “City slicker.”
    “Yokel.”
    They’d reached the back of the theatre and she dropped her shoulder against the decrepit door, trying to shove it open.
    “For Pete’s sake. You weight less than a gnat. Let me do it,” Quinn said. He stepped forward.
    “I’ve got it,” she said.
    “Amy…”
    She took a step back and threw her entire body weight at the door. It gave instantly and she stumbled over the threshold.
    “Break anything?” he asked as she rubbed her shoulder with her free hand.
    “No. You? Your precious male ego permanently dented because you didn’t get a chance to show off how much stronger you are than me?”
    It was very dark in the corridor. Quinn’s laugh sounded loud in the small space.
    “Small of stature, big of attitude. Same old, same old.”
    She jumped when his hand landed on her shoulder.
    “Lead the way, bossy pants,” he said. “I’m at your mercy.”
    “I’ve got a flashlight in my bag…” she said, very aware of the weight and warmth of his hand on her shoulder.
    She inhaled his aftershave again as she fumbled in her handbag. He’d felt so big and solid when he’d lifted her earlier. Bigger than she remembered.
    Her fumbling hand closed around the flashlight and she pulled it from her handbag and flicked it on.
    “See? All good.”
    She felt shaky inside, as though all her internal organs were trembling. This was why she’d tried to cut him out of her life. One look, one touch and she was thinking about all the things that she’d never have. It was too hard. Too cruel. Too crazy-making.
    And way, way too frustrating.
    As she’d hoped, Quinn’s hand fell to his side. She turned and started picking her way up the corridor. The flashlight beam bounced along the floor in front of her. A door loomed ahead and she twisted the handle and pushed it open. They emerged into a large, open space. In the old days, the screen would have filled the wall to the right of the door and the main seating would be in front of them. Now there was just a blank wall and lots of space where the seats used to be. She swung the flashlight in a wide arc, the beam glancing off scarred floors, scratched wood paneling, crumbling plaster walls.
    “Whoa. It smells in here,” Quinn said.
    “The roof leaked a while back. It took council a while to approve the expenditure to get it fixed and the carpet in the balcony section rotted.”
    Quinn gestured for her to hand over the champagne bottle and she held the beam steady while he removed the cage and popped the cork. He drew a champagne flute from his coat pocket and poured a glass, handing it over to her before repeating the process for himself.
    “To the Grand,” Quinn said.
    She lifted her glass to his. The small clink of glass on glass was swallowed by the vastness of the space.
    “Thank you for being here when I needed you,” she said. “You’re a good friend, Quinn.”
    Suddenly they were both very serious. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. She knew what he was thinking about—those eighteen months of unreturned phone calls and e-mails. Guilt and longing twisted inside her. She turned away and took a big gulp of champagne. Bubbles tickled the back of her throat and she coughed.
    “Careful there, tiger,” he said.
    She walked away from him, playing the flashlight over the nearest wall.
    “Do you know they imported all the cherrywood for this paneling from Northern California, even though they could have used local lacewood or blackwood? My great-grandfather was so obsessed with creating a masterpiece he wanted everything in this place to be exotic and expensive,” she said.
    Quinn joined her, reaching out to run a hand along one of the panels.
    “It’s pretty scratched