“I don’t mean you look decrepit old, just older. I look older, too. I don’t sleep enough and it’s making me age prematurely. I have a sound machine, but I haven’t started using it yet. Maybe that will help.”

And I’m now discussing sleep strategies. Excellent.

“Anyways,” I say, “I had no idea you were friends with Jason.”

“Yeah, since we were kids. I assumed we’d all eventually fall out of touch, but the guy initiates group chat conversations like no one I’ve ever met.”

“I think Jason is just one of those universally likable people. If Tom Hanks and Anna Kendrick ever had a love child, it would be him.”

“That makes sense. He’s more or less the human embodiment of a golden retriever.”

I can’t help but smile at Ryan’s words and it’s a familiar but bizarre sensation, like trying on an old favorite shirt that doesn’t fit anymore.

“Cristina seems great,” he says a second later.

“She really is. She’s so nice and funny and unbelievably loyal.” I don’t even emphasize the word loyal but it still drops between us, heavy as a wrecking ball, shaking the ground and clattering glasses.

“There it is,” Ryan says, sounding both expectant and disappointed. “I’m surprised you lasted this long, Sullivan.”

“I’m not doing this,” I reply, my heartbeat picking up speed. I refuse to play a game that neither of us can ever win. “Change the topic or I’m leaving.”

Ryan’s jaw is set in a hard line before he eventually makes himself relax. “Fine. Jason mentioned on the drive in that you live in the city now.”

“I do,” I answer. “I bought a co-op three years ago. I’m a full-on adult.”

“I never really pictured you as the city type. I saw you as more of the sitting-on-a-porch-in-a-rocking-chair kind of girl.”

“How flattering,” I say. “Like a happy geriatric patient?”

A spark of amusement flashes in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“And in your vision of me is there an oxygen tank next to me on the porch or is it just me and my trusty service dog?”

He doesn’t try to hide his smile this time and it shakes something loose in the pit of my stomach. I shove it back into place with violent force.

“All right, let’s scratch the whole porch comment. I was clearly mistaken. You want another drink?”

“Sure. You going to poison it?”

“I’d hardly tell you if I was.”

Ryan turns to the bar and I immediately yank up the top of my Spanx through the fabric of my dress. I’m all tucked in and standing normally when he faces me again, holding a beer for himself and handing me a fresh glass of champagne.

“You’re a writer now, aren’t you?” he asks.

I used to be.