“I thought that was you! Your face! It looks so much better.” Her own face opened into a wide grin. “And now here you are, the best poker player in the land, dressed like James Bond.” She mock fanned herself. “It’s a good thing that guys aren’t my deal.” Then her eyes opened with alarm. “Oh shit, oh shit. I’m sorry, I know you’re married. I’m just a fangirl. Please don’t take it the wrong way.”

Ezra wanted to be polite. But honestly, he was just trying to keep his focus and get back to Mimi and forget about this whole dumpster of a situation with Frankie and carry on. For reasons inexplicable to him, he thought, right then, of the first time they’d met, of when she plopped down at the bar next to him and he told her his woes about Bethany, and she’d said, What are you even doing with her, with your life? Don’t you know that you’re in control of your own destiny?

Why did it feel like the span of years had risen and ebbed, and still here he was, refusing to take the wheel of his own future? He’d gotten lucky with his gaming program, but now what? Did he really want to be a tech bro amassing more and more money? Spending weekends in Napa or the Hamptons rubbing elbows with the truly terrible combination of pretentious and boring? He knew that was what Mimi wanted, and he didn’t even mind that she liked that scene: this was the version of himself he’d always represented to her, the version on the questionnaire the first time they’d met. But what did Ezra Jones want? That question continued to confound him, which at thirty-two felt too late. Maybe he wanted to be a teacher; maybe he wanted to go to medical school. Maybe he wanted to start a charity for children with cancer or for homeless animals. He didn’t know; the world was his oyster, and he still didn’t know.

Joni, having passed her tray to another waiter, kept chattering on. Her hands were animated, her eyes sparkling.

“I’m actually so glad I ran into you!” she said, and then another look of recognition passed over her as she glanced over his shoulder where Frankie had been trailing him. “Frankie! Hi!” She leaned in and hugged her, like they were old friends, and Frankie, oddly, hugged her back. The Frankie he knew would have never. Maybe she’d gotten practice out there in LA, Ezra thought. Air-kisses and fake smiles and cocaine.

“I remembered something from last night,” Joni said. “I mean, I know you guys were fuzzy on things, and after you left, it came to me!” She cast her eyes toward his hands, toward his ring finger, which was now bare, the gold band still hidden in the pocket of his jeans back at the hotel.

“Oh well, I guess maybe you realized too,” she said. “It wasn’t your wedding band, so yeah, I guess that’s weird? Did you lose yours?”