Meanwhile, Joy studied to be an oceanographer, but both her bank account and academia had something nasty to say about her post-bachelor’s-degree dreams. Years ago, the owner of the bar she and Malcolm both worked at decided to take Malcolm under his wing. When the time came for Malcolm to open his own club, he offered Joy a job.

He said, “I need you with me on this. I can’t do this without you.”

It wasn’t like she was doing anything else. Out of college, oppressive loans smothering her, barely scraping by working at a call center by day and go-go dancing her heart out every night. She didn’t know a thing about finance or business. But Malcolm had believed in her, that she could learn and help him and that they were meant to do it together.

When he looks at her, really looks at her, it’s in a way that no one else in her entire life ever has. He knows her—all her faults, all her good parts. Everything she thinks she can hide with flawless mastery after years and years of practice, he sees. There are no walls with Malcolm. Hell, they barely have boundaries.

Joy says, “It’s not like we can all live our dreams. It’ll upset the balance of the universe. Some of us are destined to be unhappy and suffer so the rest of you can prosper.”

“You’re so dramatic. And for what?” Grace shakes her head. “When’s your flight coming in?”

“Uh, about that.”

“You’re not coming? Why?”

“Malcolm invited me to some trip he planned.”

“Oh good, so you told him no because you already have plans to see your sister for the first time in three months. Right?” Grace dislikes Malcolm by circumstance. She and their mom are convinced he’s the roadblock stopping Joy from getting on with her life. And by life, they mean marriage and babies.

Joy says, “I didn’t because it’s a group trip. I’m still thinking about it.”

“Who else is going?”

“Someone named Summer, and someone named Fox.”

“Who the hell are they?”

“No idea. Never heard about them before today, but apparently he’s been hanging out with some new people.”

“Without you?” Grace narrows her eyes and turns her head slightly to the side. “Like, he was keeping them a secret or . . . ?”

Joy sighs. “This is why I like talking to you, because in my mind, I think I’m being irrational and paranoid, but then you just come out and say it.”

“Hold on, let me get a drink. I’m gonna need a drink for this.”

“And I’m gonna start cooking my dinner.”

Joy’s dinners all came from a meal kit service. She justifies the purchases by viewing them as cooking lessons. Eventually, she figures, if she follows enough recipes with fresh ingredients, she’ll turn into a badass home cook through practice and osmosis.