“No! Why was that your first guess? Doesn’t matter, it’s—” I stare around my room, almost as if my lie is going to materialize out of thin air.

And then, magically, he does. He walks right in the door. Six foot one, skin kissed from the sun, curly dirty-blond hair, with a sharp nose and a gap in his teeth, tiny hoops in his ears, dressed in an oversized flannel over a Bon Iver shirt, wiping his hands on his jeans. He glances around a bit before he asks, “Everything okay in here?”

My mouth forms the plan before my brain can.

Which, I’ll admit, is probably my biggest fault as a person.

“It’s Wyatt,” I say.

“What?!” Josh gasps out, shocked.

“What’s me?” Wyatt inquires, looking more confused than normal.

I leap off the bed, going over to Wyatt and doing my best to distract him.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“And actually, Josh, we’ve got to pack for the wedding—” I walk over to the door, swinging it open, forgetting momentarily that I’m only in my shirt and underwear.

“Yeah, right. Like I’d try packing with you again,” Wyatt mutters. Then he turns to explain to Josh. “You should’ve seen him yesterday. He wouldn’t let me anywhere near his zipper. Like fine, we could easily fix your problem but you want to keep stuffing things inside when nothing else will fit.”

Josh has this look of confusion on his face, but Wyatt just keeps going. And me, well … I just stand there, dumbfounded at what’s actually coming out of Wyatt’s mouth.

“Next thing we know, he’s on the floor, zipper burst open, everything spilling out.”

“Yeah,” I say, moving a little closer and touching him playfully, but not so playfully that he’ll be suspicious. “You sure knew how to tell me ‘I told you so.’ ”

It’s clear from the way Josh is looking at us that he doesn’t completely buy this, but he also isn’t completely sure that he doesn’t completely buy this.

If Josh asks Wyatt a single question, everything will fall apart. So, I walk over to Josh, give him a big hug, and whisper, “Thanks for understanding.” Then I start to guide him to the door, grateful that the boy is light as a feather.

“Sorry to cut the visit short,” I say once he’s safely in the hall. “But yeah, packing!”

“Neil—” Josh tries to interrupt, but I don’t give him a chance.

“We’ll see you at the wedding,” I say quietly through the small opening I’ve left between the door and the doorframe, so Wyatt doesn’t hear. “I’ll totally catch you up.” I give him a smile that probably looks more like a grimace.