And the way she reacts to me leaving her behind solidifies my desire to end things with her.

We’re all there when Preacher turns up and…

[Pauses]

Give me a minute.

Of course.

[Lengthier pause, clears throat]

He looks good.

Shortish hair, few threads of silver in it, big, full beard, no silver in that.

He’s leaner than I remember which means he seems taller.

And he just looks…

[Let’s out a deep breath]

Good.

We all, of course, immediately give him shit for the silver in his hair, until Simone gets fed up with it and offers to pluck [affects bad French accent], “All tree of deez I see, beebee.”

And then I wait until she’s not around to bust Tommy’s chops about the fact I’d come just listening to his wife talk.

Though I don’t know why I bother since, first, she’s in his bed, and second, he’s manning the grill while Tim moans about having steak juice all over his veggie grate and there’s no place Tommy’s happier than standing at a grill, except, presumably, when he’s in bed with Simone.

[Grins]

Brody hits hero worship approximately point-oh-five seconds after he lays eyes on Preacher.

Vanessa manages to keep her water from breaking.

Everyone dances around the fact that Preacher is there and we’re all rapping, we’re all reminiscing, we’re talkin’ about the gig Shawn’s putting together and catching up, and Preacher is not saying shit about what he’s been up to the last six years.

And no one mentions Lyla.

Simone, God bless her, uses Brody goin’ to bed as an excuse to corral Marty and Vanessa in the kitchen to drink champagne or whatever elegant French chicks do in a kitchen, though I know it ain’t the dishes, and Vanessa didn’t drink any champagne.

And the guys all wander down to the beach where we collectively decide when we’re done wandering and we all sit on our asses under the moonlight in the sand.

That’s when he does it.

Fuckin’ hell.

[Wipes eyes]

That’s when Preach says, waves lapping the shore, and he’s talkin’ real quiet.

“How is she?”

Now, Lyla has had an eventful six years.

Love the guy, and still, when I see him, which lucky for us both is not often, I gotta fight the urge to punch Cat Trelane in the face ’cause he sniffed around her after she and Preacher split and she never shared. No clue how far that went.

I only know they’re still good friends to this day.

Or as far as her man will let her be good friends with a dude she may, or may not, have had sex with, but one thing is for certain, that dude wanted to have sex with her.