“Adrian and I graduated. We all went to UNC, and after graduation, we moved back down here. Tess and Clint stayed up there a few more years, and the others I just lost track of. I started work, and Adrian was working nights at a bar and writing during the day. We’d have some good weekends, but we needed money so I started covering shifts on the weekend in addition to my normal schedule. And he’d be up early writing on Saturdays and Sundays, since those were his busiest days at the bar at night.” I shrug. “I guess we let life stop us from...I don’t know. From enjoying life. Sounds dumb, now that I put it that way.”

“It’s not dumb. It’s normal.”

“Shouldn’t be, though.” I’m on the third batch of pancakes by this time.

“No, it shouldn’t.” He smirks. “You know, I have no idea what day of the week it is? Literally, no clue.”

I blink. “You know, now that you mention it, me neither,” I say, laughing.

“So why don’t we just agree it’s Saturday.” He uncorks the champagne with a loud pop, pours a short layer of orange juice at the bottom of the wineglass and then a generous amount of champagne over that. He extends one to me, and I take it. “Here’s to enjoying the weekend.”

I clink it against his. “Here’s to the weekend.”

We sip, and I’m transported back to more carefree days. I close my eyes, and I can almost hear Tess cackling at her own lewd jokes, Kyle and Tanner egging her on, Clint embarrassed by her and pretending to laugh along with us—he always was an asshole like that, he never appreciated her for who she is.

I take another sip, eyes closed, and I’m with Adrian in Paris. The last time we were happy together, before The Big C took him from me. He knew then. That’s what that was for. A goodbye. Memories to die with.

I swallow hard, blink away tears. Turn away before Nathan notices, and scrape the flipper under the pancakes so they don’t stick to the griddle. Clear my throat.

“Thank for this,” I say, lifting the mimosa.

“I dunno, seems like I stepped in something complicated.”

I shake my head. “You couldn’t have known.”

He doesn’t answer that. I plate the last of the pancakes. Grab the syrup, plates, forks, and a stick of butter, and bring it all out to the porch. It’s a glorious morning, cool but not cold, sunny and bright, the early morning light golden and clear.