“Thanks, but that’s not necessary. They’re already Snapchatting the rolled ice cream food truck that’s parked across the street,” I explain as I pack my computer bag up.

“Kids these days. Well, look, it sounds like you don’t need my help with the whole Decker thing.”

“That is correct,” I confirm.

“And that’s fine. But I do have a request. Can I...come over and see him? Or if that’s too forward, me coming to your place, can you bring him to a coffee shop? I have to admit I didn’t make it up to Pala much, and before he goes away again to wherever you decide, I’d love to—”

“I get it,” I say, cutting him off before I embark on another strange conversation with a man, dead, alive, or otherwise. “But I have to get to my office and run some reports now. So how about I get back to you on that, okay?”

He says nothing. Instead he offers me a closed-mouth smile.

“What?” I say.

“Will you, though? Will you get back to me? You’ve played keep away with me for the last four years.”

“Four and a half. But I promise,” I assure him. “I will text you.”

Brian comes in to hug me, a move I’m not expecting. I think it’s meant to be comforting, cordial, but I know it can’t be. And he should know that, too.

Chapter 9

Casey agrees to take Leno out for me as I head into the bathroom to get ready for the big Voyager dinner. I start with a liquid concealer. As I dab it just above my cheekbones to cancel out the purple-green hues that have occupied that space since turning twenty-nine, I notice my left eye is twitching. It’s not an all-out tic, more of just a flutter—like a flickering fluorescent light bulb that needs to be changed. In the past, this was something my eye did only when I was overly caffeinated or underrested. It used to happen a lot while working my studio job. Coffee was its own food group there and the hours were long, coupled with the fact that when I was off the clock, I was with Decker, and we had a habit of staying up late on “school nights” (which was every night; he was a high school history teacher) just talking, watching movies, thrilled to be in each other’s company. Anyone who has ever been in love knows what that restless, giddy phase is like. It’s a phase where time stops mattering. Wide awake still at two o’clock in the morning? Who cares, let’s stay up. Let’s continue to answer hypothetical would-you-rather questions, watch me struggle to do the too-hard New York Times crossword puzzle my mom sent me, and make out until the birds start chirping. That’s just...how we rolled.

“Relax, babe. The eye twitch is just your thing,” he’d say as I’d hold down my cheek, trying to get it to stop. “It matches the way you crinkle your nose when you’re stuck on a crossword clue.” God, I haven’t done an NYT crossword puzzle in years, I think to myself as I move on to bronzer, blush, eye shadow, and finally end the application with a sweep of jet-black lengthening mascara.