“Nice . . . nice to meet you. Hey, Sarah.” She looked nicer than usual, a dress, makeup and red lipstick.

Jen stood up, then hugged him hard. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s okay. Really.” He hugged her back, one of the few people he could hug and have it feel normal.

“Babe, I’m getting you some wine,” Darius said, and so they all moved into the living room area, sort of shuffling as one. Darius made himself useful, opening a few drawers to find a corkscrew. It hadn’t been used since . . . well. Valentine’s Day. Their anniversary.

That was just nine weeks ago. Nine weeks and two days. How could she be dead now, when, on February 14, they’d made love in a room lit by candles? How could life have changed so much?

“It smells wicked awesome in here,” Ken said. “What is it?”

Josh blinked. “Um . . . It’s a spicy Korean chicken dish. Flavored by my actual tears.” No one laughed, unsure if he was joking. Poor taste, he guessed.

“Do you like cooking?” Ken asked.

“Uh . . . yes. Yes, I do. I like cooking. Have a seat.” He should’ve made snacks or something. Cheese and crackers at the very least. Did he have cheese? He didn’t think so. Sarah was wiping her eyes.

The five of them stood there, not looking at each other. “Why don’t I put some music on?” Darius said.

“Sure. Great idea.” He should’ve thought of that.

“Can I, um . . . wander around?” Jen asked, her voice cracking.

“Of course,” Josh said. “Of course you can.” He seemed to be repeating himself, parrot-like, since he had nothing else to say.

“Josh, do you want me to rustle up some appetizers or something?” Sarah asked.

“Yes. That would be great. Thanks.”

“On it,” she said. “Ken, give me a hand, okay?”

“Abso-tively!” Ken said, the only cheerful one among them.

“Come with me,” Jen whispered to Josh. It was only her second time here since Lauren died, and Josh could feel a burning at the back of his eyes. She took his hand, and they went into his office, which was off the living room.

There were half a dozen framed photos of Lauren, on the desk, on the wall. Her face surrounded them, reminding them of all they had lost. All that love. All that happiness.

“How are you?” Jen asked.

“I’m horrible.”

“Me, too. Josh, she left me a letter.” Jen’s eyes filled, and Josh was struck with guilt that he hadn’t taken better care of her. After all, Jen was lost, too. “It was perfect, you know? I had it framed.” Her face scrunched up.

He hugged her again. “I miss her so much,” Jen whispered. “I keep starting to call her. I can’t bear to delete her number from my phone, you know?”

“I do.”