Of course, it’s possible, and likely, but somehow even trying to imagine myself with someone who is not Nicholas makes me feel strange.

The following day, I FaceTime with Sydney and I tell her everything.

When I take a brief pause, she asks why she had cancelled our plans to meet up the next day.

“Apparently, she had to work,” I say. “She has a tight deadline to get her new novel written and she didn’t want to meet up for lunch in the middle of her writing days. She said that she raced through that book in order to get it done as quickly as possible and meet up with me.”

“I’m really happy for you,” Sydney says, turning her face away from the camera. I give her a second but then move my face a little bit closer.

What is going on here? Is she….upset?

“Syd, are you okay?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she whispers and her voice cracks in the middle.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m so stupid. I can’t stop this.”

When she looks up at me, I see tears streaming down her face.

“Oh my God, what’s going on?” I demand to know.

“James and I broke up,” she says quickly, jumping over each word. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to bring this up. You’re in such a good mood with everything that has happened—”

“Forget all that. Tell me what’s going on,” I insist, feeling like the most egocentric idiot.

How could I just go on like that?

How could I not notice that something was wrong?

Here she is going through something traumatic and I’m just going on about how wonderful my life is. I want to be able to rewind our whole conversation and start again.

Sydney doesn’t reply and just continues to nudge me to keep talking. But I refuse.

“Please, you have to tell me. Everything is fine with me. I’ve already talked enough.”

“Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath.

And then she takes another one.

And another one.

“I caught him cheating on me,” she says, shaking her head.

I narrow my eyes.

“I know, I know, it’s so stupid. I mean, he can’t cheat on me, right? We’ve been together with other people, so what am I complaining about?”

“That’s not what I think,” I say sternly. “And you know that.”

She shrugs. “That’s what I think. That’s what he thinks.”

I wait for her to explain. It takes a bit more coaxing but eventually she does.

“I came home early from work one day and found him in bed with his ex-girlfriend.”

“But doesn’t she live in…Hawaii?”