“Every day,” I mumbled.

Cal looked crushed when I told him that, and right away I wished I’d lied.

“What about now?” he said, his brow furrowed, concerned. “You’re happy, right?”

“Happy?” It was like I didn’t even understand the question. Then a vision of October making breakfast in my T-shirt flashed before my eyes and I smiled, but the magnitude of that insight racked me with guilt and dread.

“Marriage? Kids?” Cal asked.

“Not even close.”

“You seeing anybody?”

I shook my head. “Broke up with someone a couple months ago. Haven’t really had time since I got this job.”

Cal and I closed the pub down that night, and even though Casa Diez was less than two miles away, I didn’t think I could drive up the dark, winding road to get there as shit-faced as I was. I suggested we walk home, but Cal didn’t think he’d make it. He called October and asked her if she would come and get us.

We sat on the curb laughing at everything funny and not funny, the way only intolerably drunk people do, finding it uproarious that we’d never ended up shit-faced and stranded in high school but were doing it as adults.

October arrived to find us on the sidewalk, FaceTiming with Ingrid. Cal had grabbed my phone and called her, and despite the fact that he’d woken her up, she started to laugh and cry as soon as she recognized him.

October ordered us into the car.

“I’m talking to Harp’s mom!” Cal shouted.

October seemed irritated, and I took my phone from Cal and told Ingrid we had to go.

“You boys be careful,” Ingrid said, just like she used to when we were teenagers. “And have fun.”

Cal got in the front seat and I hopped in the back. I could see October’s mouth, straight and livid in the rearview mirror.

“Baby, you saved us,” Cal slurred. He leaned in and kissed her neck as she drove, and I closed my eyes to avoid seeing Cal’s sloshy displays of affection, until I heard October say, “Stop it, Chris. You smell like a frat house.”

Cal turned around and whispered, “I think we’re in trouble.” Then he leaned toward October. “Don’t be mad. I love you so much.”

October met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “How much did he have to drink?”

“Maybe four beers,” I said. It had actually been six or seven, but I decided to round down for Cal’s benefit.

“Four? Jesus, Joe. He doesn’t normally drink that much, you know.”

I wanted to tell her I knew that about him long before she did, but instead I slumped down into my seat and stopped meeting her eyes in the mirror.

Cal was still chuckling under his breath, mumbling about being in trouble. Then he started going on about how beautiful and amazing his girlfriend was, pressing me to agree with him. “Isn’t she beautiful, Harp? Isn’t she amazing? Even when she’s pissed.”