But April and Connor’s invitation had reminded him of those bonds he’d forged at college, of how they’d both shown up for his mother’s funeral, even though he hadn’t asked. Of course, Frankie hadn’t shown. They hadn’t spoken in years. He wouldn’t have expected her to.

“Come on, Meems, you’ll love them,” he had said that night over Chinese food. “April and Connor, and Gregory, oh my God, you’d love him, and . . . just . . . we were all inseparable.”

“I met Gregory,” Mimi said without looking up. “In the Hamptons.”

Ezra had forgotten—two summers ago, when they were newly together, when Gregory was back from Portland for the week and joined them.

“Right, and he’s great, right? But I want you to meet the rest of them.”

Mimi had raised an eyebrow and her chopsticks hovered in the air and she said: “Is this because of her?”

“Her?” Ezra honest to God didn’t even know who she meant at first.

“Her,” Mimi said, and then Ezra understood. Her. He and Mimi had never had to have the talk about exclusivity or if they were going to be serious. Ezra always wanted things to be serious, with any new girlfriend. And besides, they’d both ticked those same boxes: monogamy and fidelity were of utmost importance. When they started dating, he was already apartment hunting—he’d gotten too old for roommates, and he made enough money to splurge on a prewar rental with decent plumbing and a doorman—so she started apartment hunting with him. She moved in with him after he signed the lease, and honestly, Ezra was happy. They were a perfect match of two people who both wanted the exact same amount of loyalty (all of it), who both required the exact same amount of honesty (also all of it). It had been this way since the start, and with expectations so clear, it had always been easy, exactly what Ezra thought a relationship should be. They’d talked about their exes in passing—the sort of conversations you had, and then set aside, when you were both so relieved to finally find the right fit—and just like everything else in their relationship, they landed on the same page: that those relationships were so far in the rearview mirror they couldn’t be seen, that those were shadows who felt like distant memories. Ezra was surprised that Mimi was even mentioning Frankie. He certainly never did.

That night, he put down his own set of chopsticks and cracked open a fortune cookie that fortuitously read: You have a great adventure in your future! And he held it up for Mimi to read, and she laughed and pushed her copper hair behind her ears and said: “You planned that, didn’t you?” And he grinned in reply, and said, “Please come? I really want you there. And it has nothing to do with her.” And she acquiesced and then she promised she would call to find a flight from Kansas City to Boston or Hartford, Connecticut. They never discussed her after that, and when he thought about this later, he was never quite sure if this was a blessing or a warning. Maybe both.