She had been right. He liked being with her, but losing her hadn’t shattered him. He hadn’t asked her why it was important for her to be able to hurt him. Truth was, nothing had hurt him in a very long time other than winning and losing matches.

Sitting up, he pulled out his phone. Before he could think it through, he texted Myra. Did I say Congratulations?

Maybe he should’ve cared what her fiancé thought about Rico texting her in the middle of the night, but Myra wasn’t a bone to fight over and Rico certainly didn’t give a shit about a man if he didn’t trust the person he was with. Myra had insisted they stay friends. He was friends with all his exes. The friendship had always been the best part of the relationships anyway. As was proven by the fact that he was godfather to Ryka’s baby girl, a commitment he took very seriously and an honor he was grateful for.

There was only one ex he hadn’t stayed friends with.

Myra’s response buzzed in immediately. Several times. Aren’t you in America? Isn’t it three in the morning there?

Zee’s bachelor party’s just getting started.

She sent him a smiley face followed by a few dancing-lady emojis, beer mugs, and, inexplicably enough, monkeys.

Are you happy? he wanted to ask her. With this new guy?

Because he wanted happiness for her.

We set a date, she texted, before he embarrassed himself by asking that question. September 30th in Tuscany. You have to be there.

Of course. I’m happy for you.

I know.

Dots danced on the screen as Myra typed more, then erased what she’d typed. For a long time he stared at the phone as dots appeared and disappeared but no new text came in.

Zee shouted Rico’s name from the dance floor and the guys raised their glasses to Rico across the room.

The room in Nevada.

Right next to California. Where Rico had been the unhappiest he’d ever been in his life. But also where he had still known how to be happy.

His best mate gyrated around the dance floor. Zee’s Punjabi Indian half always showed up in his dancing. He turned everything into a bhangra, shoulders popping, feet thumping. The wild beat of the dance captured Zee’s joy perfectly. He knew how to be himself without shutting any part of himself down. He knew how to be with someone he loved without holding himself back. He hadn’t lost that ability.

The skin under Rico’s brace itched. They couldn’t get the darned thing off him soon enough.

He imagined the freedom of having his body back. Of being able to run and bend and move. For all the pain and discomfort, the surgery was going to give him that.