“Although when we got back together this last time and decided to get married, he promised he’d communicate better. That was part of the reason he stopped drinking. To be more focused, to be more responsible and thoughtful. And he had been for a while, up until the last few weeks. I don’t want to overreact to one night. Maybe he just needs some time to himself.”

“Well, I’m sure—”

“When did you talk to him? If you knew about the wedding, that means you talked to him. When was that?”

“Earlier this evening,” I said.

“And what did he seem like?”

I thought about my answer, and it was an honest one. “Same as ever. No, I don’t mean that. Not exactly. I can tell he’s healthier. Clearer.”

When Samantha spoke again, her voice carried a sharp edge, something I didn’t think I’d ever heard from her before. I worried I’d offended her. “See, that’s just it, Ryan. He is different now. People don’t want to give him credit for that, but he’s different. He’s grown-up. He works hard. He’s good to me. You only see the guy you went to college with. We all do that with people we’ve known a long time.”

“That’s true, but—”

“You should see when he comes to my school and helps with the kids. They love him. They climb all over him. He has that gentle side. He’s very loving. You’ve seen that, right?”

I had to admit I had. College. The time after my dad’s death. Even later than that . . . When Amanda and I got married, he managed to track down a set of vintage dishes—Franciscan Starburst—that Amanda had mentioned wanting once in passing and he gave them to us as a wedding gift. How he remembered that detail and then acted upon it, I’ll never know.

I didn’t have any uncles I was close to . . . and no brothers. In the days leading up to the wedding, Blake had played the part of best friend and big brother and even a little of father, since mine was gone. It was Blake who made a sentimental toast at the rehearsal dinner, Blake who again helped me tie my tie, Blake who walked my mom down the aisle and danced with her at the reception. . . .

“Are you sure you don’t know where he is?” I asked, hoping my question would jar her into thinking of something she’d overlooked. I didn’t want to think the worst, and neither did Sam. “Do you have a guess?”

She looked away. I thought her chin started to quiver, but she quickly got it together and turned back to me.