Then Blake would go too far, and I’d rein him in. Blake would have a crisis—a girl, a professor, his parents—and I’d advise him on the best way to handle it.

I expected a crisis. An irritated boss. A new relationship gone wrong.

I waited a moment, hoping Amanda would respond. But she didn’t.

I’d tried calling her an hour earlier but hadn’t gotten an answer. Sometimes she tried to catch a nap at the same time as Henry. Sometimes she just got too busy with Henry to bother with the phone. But I wanted to make sure she knew I wouldn’t be home when I’d said I would. I felt a little like a fool admitting that I’d had no idea how much strain having a newborn would add to our lives. I don’t think either one of us had. Amanda felt it more because she was on the front line with Henry every day, and I wanted to get home to help as fast as I could.

“I bet you didn’t mention my name,” Blake said.

“What’s that?”

“To Amanda,” he said. “You texted her, but I’d bet you every beer I’ve ever drunk you didn’t tell her you were with me. I know she’s not the forgiving type.”

“There wasn’t any need to mention you.” But he was right. I had intentionally left Blake out of the message. Amanda and Blake had fallen out, which had caused me not to see him for six months, and there was no need to stir that pot. I sipped my coffee. “But, seriously, ten minutes.”

“Sure. I understand.” He lifted his steaming mug and drank. I expected him to wince from what must have been the scalding temperature of the coffee, but he didn’t flinch. One brown droplet clung to his beard.

I studied his eyes. It had been a long time since I’d seen them as clear as they were in the bright light of the coffee shop. No red. No fog or glaze from alcohol. Or weed. He looked more like the fresh-faced guy I had met during our first year of college than he had at any time since. And when I’d seen him laugh with that older couple, I understood what had been appealing about him in the first place all those years ago. His natural ease with everyone he met. His jokes that always seemed organic. His ability to get along with just about anyone. Almost everyone at our small college knew his name. Partyers and studiers. Football players and honors students.

And I wasn’t different from anyone else who had met him back then. He was the flame, and I was the moth.

“You seemed a little jumpy when I said your name.” Blake eyed me over his mug. “Everything okay?”

“Just busy. You know.”