“I want to thank those of you who came solo. You may have arrived alone, but trust me, you’ll go home with new friends, whether you like it or not.” I scan the room as people laugh. My eyes land on a man’s silhouette near the back exit. For a second, I wonder if it’s Ryan, here to surprise me.

But this man is taller than Ryan. He’s trimmer, too, less muscular. His thick, dark hair is longer, wavier. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s not our typical demographic, and I almost move on, but I don’t, because just then, he steps into the light, and I can see his face. There’s something playful in his eyes. He looks . . . intrigued. By me? By my groping improvisation? Does he see that I’m hanging on by a thread?

Instead of simply absorbing this and moving on, I swerve into what Ryan calls the Carpool-Lanie; if I’m going down, I’m taking someone down with me.

“I want to thank the lone guy at the back, for getting the signed book for his wife. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that she works nights, and you’re getting laid at sunrise when she finds her signed book on her pillow. Man of the Year, everybody.”

The audience gives a few wolf whistles, and I glance back to see whether the man is laughing. But he’s moved from his spot. I lose sight of him in the crowd. I tell myself his wife would laugh if she were here.

“I’ve been told not to improvise these speeches,” I say. “And look at me now, going full Bill Murray on you.” I take a breath. “I think what I’m trying to say is what a relief it is to feel connected instead of alone. That’s what we’re all hoping for when we pick up a novel. Isn’t it? Noa’s stories bond us with forty million other readers, all around the world, and yet, somehow, they feel as intimate as a conversation. When I read Noa’s stories, I feel that no one has ever understood me so well. She’s my friend. I know she’s your friend as well. Let’s raise a glass to Noa, and to the brilliant Two Hundred and Sixty-Six Vows.”

At this moment, the very last line of my speech comes at me. It was one of Terry’s edits, and it’s perfect for this crowd. “Let us renew our vows as readers. Would you all please reach for your balloon, and find your pin?” I take my own balloon and hold the pin aloft. “Repeat after me: With this cake, I thee read.”

“With this cake,” the crowd responds, “I thee read!”