THE RACE STARTED at Providence College, the beautiful Catholic school on the other side of the city from Brown and RISD. Josh brought Pebbles; Sebastian and Octavia loved the dog. He paid the entry fee, filled out a form holding the organizers free from liability should he drop dead at some point—it was pretty hot—and got a chip for his shoelace.

“Are you running in honor of someone?” the lady at the table asked.

“Um . . . yes. My wife.”

“What’s her disease?”

Such a weird question. “Idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis.”

The woman knew enough to flinch. “I’m so sorry. If you want to write her name on your number, go right ahead.”

“No, thank you.” The last thing he wanted was for people to know he was a widower, which would compel him to talk about his beautiful wife with strangers who would say stupid things like she’s at peace now and heaven has another angel.

He found Lauren’s family at their meeting spot and exchanged the usual awkward, sad hugs. He gave Jen a kiss on the forehead, and managed not to pull away from Donna. Sebastian declined to hug him; he hadn’t been the same around Josh since Lauren died. Poor little guy was only four.

“High five?” Josh suggested. Sebastian shook his head, and Josh wanted to cry. Once, the kid had run into his arms. Now, he knew Josh was broken somehow. Luckily, Pebbles came to the rescue and began licking Sebastian’s face, getting the kid to giggle and wriggle. That dog was worth her weight in gold.

“Unca Josh!” Octavia announced.

“Hi, peanut,” he said, his voice husky.

He remembered to ask Darius about work and ask Donna about Bill. People kept coming by to say hello, which Josh hated. Too reminiscent of Lauren’s funeral.

And there was Sarah. She looked at him, then looked away, her face tight. Super. He needed to apologize, but he sensed she wouldn’t make it easy.

“Hey. Got a second?” he asked.

“Sure!” she said, fake smiling.

They walked a few yards away from everyone else, to the shade of a tree. It was a brutally hot day, already ninety, and muggy. The shade felt nominally better. Sarah’s smile dropped.

She looked tanned; he forgot where she’d gone, but it didn’t matter. Her blond hair was lighter than normal, pulled back in those complicated braids. She wore blue running shorts and a matching tank top. She was very fit, he noticed. Athletic, even. Was that new, or had she always been?

“What’s up?” she asked.

“How was your vacation?”

“Great.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Where did you go?”