Also, I wanted to thank him for single-handedly altering my aesthetic sensibility. Because of him, my idea of what beauty was changed from the washboard stomach, the chiseled cheekbones, the Adonis-like figure, and the love of mirrors to dependable, decent, humble, funny, gentle, generous. Slakowitz was my transition. He was my vapid, gorgeous fuck buddy. Tim Welch was my future.

“I hurt you, and I wish I could . . .”

But now, to mess with my head, Jeff Slade was midway through making his amends when I realized what he’d become. Dependable, decent, humble, funny, gentle, generous. And also newly sober.

“I’m basically trying to say I’m a changed man. And I wish I’d changed sooner—”

“I get it. I got it. Don’t say any more.”

But it appeared Jeff was just getting started when I heard a vaguely familiar male voice go, “Oops.”

We both turned to find Tim, who had finally emerged from the bathroom, standing there. I didn’t recognize him right away.

“Do you two want more time alone?”

That was when I started to laugh, partly from guilt (because I did maybe want more time) but mostly because of how he was dressed. He wore his professorial cardigan sweater with the brown moleskin elbow patches. He’d slicked back his hair in such a way that it made him look younger and more vulnerable. What especially got me was the rose-briar pipe (empty of tobacco, of course) that he held in his hand and occasionally stuck in his mouth. He looked retro-fifties, like a loving father from one of those black-and-white TV shows. It was off-putting at first, but it quickly grew on me. Bravo, I thought. Tim was the real actor that evening. Award-winning. He hadn’t wanted to attend the reunion of two ex-lovers, but he’d come along because I’d insisted. And for better or worse, he’d come on his own terms.

My only objection was his choice of where to sit. I’d made room for him next to me, but he slid in on Jeff Slade’s side. It was the oddest feeling, the two of them next to each other, both facing me. I thought of that Sesame Street song about how one thing is not like the others.

Before we ordered from the menu, Jeff announced that this would be his treat. I started to object, but Tim said, “Kate, don’t be rude.” I shut up because Tim was right.

Jeff ordered what I ordered, the grilled chicken salad, and Tim went for a bacon cheeseburger with twice-dipped fries.

During the meal, Jeff talked all about Jeff. He spoke about his show, which Tim claimed we’d seen and liked. “It’s your best work,” Tim said. Jeff looked in my direction. I nodded.

“You don’t know what that means to me,” Jeff said.