His voice was flat, slicing like a steel blade through the Cat Stevens song now playing overhead and the murmured conversations around us.

I looked around, and the other patrons continued with their own conversations. The barista, a college student with fuchsia-streaked hair, and what looked like thirteen piercings in her left ear, chatted with a customer while she sloppily poured milk from a gallon jug.

We stared at each other for a moment, Blake and I.

I scooted forward.

“Why not?” I asked.

But I already knew.

And so did he.

“You haven’t even heard what I want you to do yet, Ryan,” he said. “The request. And you know—and I know—you have no choice but to do whatever I ask you to do.”

CHAPTER FOUR

I braced myself for what was next.

No choice indeed. I stayed rooted in my chair, my spine rigid as a board.

“Things didn’t end well between this woman and me,” he said. “I broke it off abruptly. To get back with Sam. This woman didn’t like that. You know, things with Sam, the clarity I acquired about our relationship, that came to me kind of suddenly after all of our fits and starts. Sometimes you just have an insight about your life—an epiphany, I guess you could call it. And then I knew what I wanted, the direction I needed to go. This woman I was with is so carefree. So fun. I love Sam, but her background, her family—they’re all so . . . serious. So proper. I love them all, but I also never quite feel like I can be myself with them. Sam, yes. But the family . . . It was a relief to be with this other woman. It was liberating, and I really let my guard down.”

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“I got carried away in the things I said.”

“Did you promise her something? A commitment? Marriage?”

“No, not that.”

“Who the hell is she?”

Blake shook his head, affecting a casual, devil-may-care approach to such mundane facts as the woman’s identity. “I don’t want to get into all the details, Ryan. Her name is Jen, okay, and she lives here in town. She has a good job. She’s smart too. She’s getting her MBA online. It’s not important to know more, and I don’t want this to be embarrassing for her. No more than it already is. It’s over. I’ve told her that in no uncertain terms. She knows about Sam. She knows I’m getting married.” A slightly amused look crossed his face, as though something had surprised him. “In fact, Sam and I are getting married on Saturday. This Saturday.”

“Saturday? That’s two days from now.”