“Then you’re the stupidest fucking person on the planet, Ira.” Larkin put a hand over his eyes as another sob tore out of him. “I love Noah and all I did was ruin his life.”

There was a note of hesitation in Doyle’s voice, but he asked, “Do you want me to go downstairs and see if I can catch him? Or—give me his number, and I’ll call him for you.”

Larkin tucked his face against his shoulder to awkwardly wipe away snot and tears. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words crumpled like ash and he had to close it against another wave of cries threatening to come forward. He put a hand over his eyes again.

“People say things when they’re scared or confused, and they usually aren’t the right things to say,” Doyle suggested.

“But he knows it cuts me to the bone. He knows I won’t ever forget how it makes me feel. And it feels fucking awful, Ira. Awful. I’m one association away from crying in some other bathroom on a summer night, remembering what my soon-to-be ex-husband really thinks of me. And the worst part is, he’s not even wrong. I’ve refused to visit my in-laws for the last two years, knowing it was making the rift between us worse. I do stop listening, then miss important details I should be writing down. I haven’t been able to get an erection since January and I didn’t tell Noah it was because of the Xanax—I just made it worse by taking more and more.”

“Evie?”

“What,” he snapped.

“You’re not a cruel person. And I’ve never known you to make a decision without logical reasons to back it up. What you’re saying—those are symptoms of a bigger problem.”

Larkin snorted and wiped at his eyes. “If I’d just sucked it up and spent Christmas with his parents like Noah wanted—”

“But that’s not Noah’s choice to make,” Doyle interrupted. “I know these are sensitive topics. They would be for any relationship. But the world wasn’t designed with people like you in mind, and the only one who can advocate for your mental well-being is you. I know you speak in a very exacting manner, and that can come off as curt to some, but I… struggle to be entirely sympathetic to Noah’s hurt when he’s been made aware of your condition for a long time.”

Larkin looked down, placed his bare left hand on the tile floor, spread his fingers, and dragged them back and forth against the lines of grout. “Do you—” He stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Do you think people can love each other and still not be right for one another.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I’m blameless in this breakup.”