Their house is in a tony suburb, tucked away from the street at the end of a long driveway that winds through looming clusters of pine trees. We park at the end of a row of cars adorned with bumper stickers of gymnasts performing handstands and splits. I smooth down the front of the dress I borrowed from Mom last night when I realized that nothing in my closet could magically make me look three sizes smaller and eight times more confident than I currently am. The dress is rich purple, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a skirt that skims easily over my hips and thighs. If it were any other night, I’d feel pretty in it.

My heart races as we make our way to the front door. I wonder if Dimitri and Jasmine know that I’m Ryan’s date. I wonder if they think about me at all anymore. I mentally review what I’m going to say to them, which boils down to polite but not overly enthusiastic compliments about their home and a few casual comments about how my life is amazing, my job is fantastic, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and everything is actually perfect, thank you very much. My palms are slick and clammy. I pull my hand away from Ryan’s to wipe it on my dress.

Ryan heaves the golden knocker—of course it’s gold—against the door. Jasmine opens the door and trills an eager “Hello!” She beams at Ryan first. When she registers who I am, her face freezes. For a terrifying moment, she falls silent. But then, just as she was trained to do, she snaps back into action.

“Avery?!” she squeals. “Come here, oh my god. It’s been, what, how many years?”

She delivers an enthusiastic air-kiss and half a hug while balancing a precariously full cocktail.

“Hi,” I manage. “It’s so good to see you again.”

She steps back, ushering us into her home. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, and it sounds like the truth. “This is amazing.”

The house reminds me of my parents’ place. It’s not decorated in the same style—Jasmine and Dimitri’s tastes seem more modern and eclectic—but it’s full of the kinds of odds and ends that older people accumulate over a lifetime. There’s an expensive-looking credenza in the foyer that holds a single orchid in a hand-thrown pot and an unusual, abstract painting illuminated by a pair of matching silver sconces.