He opened what must’ve been the junk drawer, rifling through spare keys, Ziplocs full of screws, and loose batteries until his hands grasped a baggie of weed. He answered without looking at me: ‘I mean that she thinks there are good people and bad people. Period.’

So something had happened, I realized, the thought sobering me up. Something that perhaps was more forgivable to him than it was to her. I found myself hating this Rachel woman, for whatever she had done.

But it couldn’t be that, I told myself. If these two – both of them gorgeous, smart, and downright enchanting – couldn’t find a way to make it work, who could?

I raised an eyebrow. ‘And you don’t?’

‘I think people are products of their circumstances. We react to what life throws our way. Know what I mean?’

I held his gaze. I knew what he meant, better than he could ever imagine.

‘What I’m saying is, I’m a bit quicker to forgive than V. It’s the Midwest in me.’ He paused, reaching for a fresh bottle of wine. ‘Anyway,’ he went on, steering us back to safe territory. ‘My wife is my everything,’ John said. ‘I only want to see her happy. I’m always on her side.’

By the time we got back to the gazebo, I’d mostly regained my composure. John topped off our glasses as Vera crumbled the weed into the vaporizer. When it was ready, she sucked deep, then paused, finally blowing out a huge plume of misty smoke like she was Gandalf. ‘Have some?’ she asked.

Against my better judgment, I took the vaporizer from her. I was being paranoid, I realized, and I couldn’t let myself live like this. Afraid of every single person I met. This was my new life, after all. I was allowed to have some goddamn weed.

I took a draw, coughing a few times, then leaned forward, passing it to John. By the time I leaned back, I was tingly all over, my body itching with awareness – every hair, every inch of skin. When Davis and I got edibles, we had such good sex. Crazy good, where time slowed down and it’s all there around you and inside you, so lovely you don’t want it ever to stop.

‘It’s good, huh?’ John asked. ‘Vera knows how to find the best everything.’

‘Super good,’ I said, smelling all the scents of the woods – musty earth, sunbaked grass, and something sweet like spun candy. I brushed the hair out of my face and shrugged out of my cardigan, the wind gone again and the air ripe and present, like it was giving me a hug.