I know she’s tired, Brad thought. I slept in the same bed with her for six years. “Just put her on, will you?”

David sighed and put the phone down with a thump. Wolgast heard the rustling of sheets and then David’s voice, saying to Lila, It’s Brad, for Pete’s sake, tell him to call at a decent hour next time.

“Brad?”

“I’m sorry to call so late. I didn’t realize what time it was.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m in Texas. A motel, actually. I can’t tell you where exactly.”

“Texas.” She paused. “You hate Texas. I don’t think you called to tell me you’re in Texas, did you?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you. I don’t think David’s too happy.”

Lila sighed into the phone. “Oh, it’s all right. We’re still friends, right? David’s a big boy. He can handle it.”

“I got your email.”

“Well.” He heard her breathe. “I kind of figured. I supposed that was why you called. I thought I’d hear from you at some point.”

“Did you do it? Get married.”

“Yes. Last weekend, here at the house. Just a few friends. My parents. They asked for you, actually, wanted to know how you were doing. They always really liked you. You should call them, if you want. I think my dad misses you more than anyone.”

He let the remark pass—more than anyone? More than you, Lila? He waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t, and the silence was taken up by a picture that formed in his mind, a picture that was actually a memory: Lila in bed, in an old T-shirt and the socks she always wore because her feet got cold no matter the time of year, a pillow wedged between her knees to straighten her spine because of the baby. Their baby. Eva.

“I just wanted to tell you I was.”

Lila’s voice was quiet. “Was what, Brad?”

“That I was … happy for you. Like you asked. I was thinking that you should, you know, quit your job this time. Take some time off, take better care of yourself. I always wondered, you know, if—”

“I will,” Lila cut in. “Don’t worry. Everything is fine, everything is normal.”

Normal. Normal, he thought, was what everything was not. “I just—”

“Please.” She took a deep breath. “You’re making me sad. I have to get up in the morning.”

“Lila—”

“I said I have to go.”

He knew she was crying. She didn’t make a sound to tell him so, but he knew. They were both thinking about Eva, and thinking about Eva would make her cry, which was why they weren’t together anymore, and couldn’t be. How many hours of his life had he held her as she cried? And that was the thing; he’d never known what to say when Lila cried. It was only later—too late—that he’d realized he wasn’t supposed to say anything at all.