He let a few beats of silence elapse, but they weren’t uncomfortable beats, before saying, “Because my father is an asshole, my mother is complicit, and my brother is an idiot.”

That didn’t actually tell her anything, and she was gearing up to press him on the matter when the background noise on his end swelled. She pulled her phone away from her ear to check the time. “It’s ten minutes to midnight there, isn’t it? You have to get off the phone.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re going to miss New Year’s!”

“I’m reasonably certain that’s not true. Unless you have some kind of uncanny foreknowledge that I’m going to fall off this terrace and perish in the next ten minutes, I will, in fact, live to see the new year.”

“But you should go inside and spend New Year’s—”

“I’m spending New Year’s exactly where I want to,” he said with a quiet certainty.

She wasn’t sure what to say to that pronouncement, and she was even less sure she should be as flattered by it as she was, so she just asked, “Any resolutions?” There was a long pause, so she added, “I’ll tell you mine. Get divorced.” She’d meant to speak breezily, but her resolution had come out way too zealously. She felt a little sheepish, like she’d exposed more of herself than she’d intended to. She tried to lighten things up. “Also, related: I need to get going on one of the apps. I keep thinking about it, but I never actually do it. So I guess my resolutions are get divorced and have sex. Probably not in that order, alas.”

She expected Max to have an opinion about her second resolution, to jokingly offer up his services, but he said, suddenly, quickly, in a rush of words, “I think I want to try to get a job this year.”

“Pardon me?”

“Never mind.”

Maybe Max had inadvertently exposed more of himself than he’d intended, too? But too bad. She wasn’t letting that nugget go unexamined. “No. Tell me.”

“I’ve been flitting around since I finished grad school. But that was eight months ago. I have no purpose.”

“I thought your purpose was to be a man-whore.” As soon as it was out of her mouth, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. She and Max had spent much of their limited acquaintance bantering, but he was being uncharacteristically serious now—or trying to.

“Right,” he said.

“No, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. What kind of job are you thinking of?”

He was silent for a long moment, and she feared her flippancy had shut him down, but he finally said, “My family has a mining company. My father’s always after me to take a more active role.”

“Why have you never told me any of this?”