I wanted to deny so badly that I was still struggling from my husband dying, that I thrust myself into a program that would help me find a future with someone else. A future I’d have complete control over, which included knowing before date one that that person would never have a chance with me.

“Daddy’s home,” shouts Casey from the doorway, waking Leno from the cutest puppy sleep in my lap and jogging me out of my untimely revelation. Immediately, our apartment smells like a deep fryer. She’s stopped at In-N-Out on her way home.

I tuck Brian’s card into the kitchen junk drawer and steal one of Casey’s fries, which are covered in cheese and chili sauce.

“Okay, I will definitely not miss this when I move out,” she says of me snatching her food.

“Can you throw me a bone, please?” I bargain with her. “I’m just coming to terms with the fact my husband has a son, giving my husband’s ashes back to his mother, and reeling from seeing the skull of a double-headed flamingo at a curiosities expo. And one more thing. Remember my missing money? Turns out everyone’s favorite children’s doctor is the one who stole that ten grand from me. I’m very fragile right now, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Wow,” she says with a mouth full of cheese fries. “Crack open a bottle of rosé and tell me more about it in the living room?”

I’m not so sure how rosé pairs with greasy fast food, but I’m game to take Casey up on the invitation for a fireside chat. I’m tempted to say that I owe that to her—to open up, have a little “girl talk” in the living room over a bottle of wine—but actually, I owe that to us. Parameters about how to move on, when, and with whom were put up around her, too. From the first day of living with Casey, I’ve always wanted to break those walls down. I’ve always wanted to be Casey’s friend. Why? She’s one badass chick. Not to mention, loyal to a fault.

An hour goes by and we both have a pore-minimizing mud mask on our faces. I have officially caught Casey up with all things Brian-Debbie-Gemma-Aiden. And unlike the way she acted on the boat, she actually seems to care this time—especially about the part Brian’s played.

“Sneaky bastard, eh?” Casey says.

“I mean, I see why he thought it was a good idea. I just don’t see how he didn’t realize there’d be serious blowback doing what he did,” I explain, two glasses of rosé in.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he knew there’d be blowback. But I’m also pretty sure he knew for as fucked up as it may all have been, that every player in this game had the capability to cope with it in the end. You know? Like, this actually isn’t the worst thing y’all have been through. So, let me ask you this. Now that the truth is out there, how do you feel about him?”