Alex felt a flush of frustration at the implication that she might be misrepresenting the conversation, especially because she knew she was.

“Not exactly, no, but that was the gist. That I push everyone away, meaning men in particular.”

“Okay, but”—he placed his hand on the base of his wine glass, swirling it unnecessarily—“do you think that’s totally wrong?”

“That I push everyone away?”

“I mean, calling things early. You know, before they have a chance to get serious.”

Her eyes cut across the table, waiting him out until he was firmly looking back in her direction after much evasion.

“He told me he was done with me,” she said, sending a fresh jolt of pain through her own heart. “He’s the one who called it off early.”

“He had just seen the video.”

“We had a long conversation, and that’s where he left it. It wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, Paul.”

She flashed back to the moment by the door, the tear running down her face, him stopping himself from wiping it away before all but asking her to leave.

“Okay, but you don’t think it’s worth following up, once you guys have cooled down?” There was a slightly petulant insistence in his voice.

“If he reaches out to me, maybe,” she answered.

“Listen, you were so sure last time that you knew the exact right way to communicate with him, and it didn’t work.”

“Last time?”

“With the letter.”

“Oh, come on,” she sighed, feeling herself getting frustrated again in real time. “I was twenty-two years old.”

She observed him pointedly, waiting for him to meet her eyes. There were moments like this between them sometimes, where the extent of their history—the things they had seen up close—revealed itself. It always felt so vulnerable, being with someone who knew her as well as he did, and in as many ways. Sometimes it would hit her all at once, leaving her so exposed that the only thing she could do was retreat.

“But if you want to talk about communication strategies,” she finally said, “I’m right here for a conversation about Guy.” She could hear the sibling-like cadence in her voice that often accompanied their frustration with one another.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what? You’re the one who came up here because he called you fat!”

He winced at the word.

“Because I was defending you.”

“And then it became about you, somehow. Like it always does.” She flicked her napkin open, setting it down over her lap. “Is that what you want your life to be like?”

“Why can I never just vent to you without it becoming a TED Talk?”

“Me telling you—” She checked her tone, softening it before starting again. “Me telling you it’s not normal for your fiancé to constantly insult you is not a TED Talk.”