“They’ll have another key at the front desk,” Joe said, shifting his weight as he heard his own voice crack. “You can get one when you come back. I’d say you could get it now, but we should probably get over to the wedding. It starts in less than a half hour.”

Vicki was much taller than she’d been in the lobby, Joe thought, shooting a resentful glance at her spiked shoes. He didn’t like it when women did this—wore shoes that propped them up like stilt walkers. She was also dressed for a funeral, he thought, eying her shapeless black dress that hung like a sack and cut off just below the knee. Despite the warm weather, her legs were covered in black panty hose.

His eyes fell to her bag again. He eyed the paperback book that was sticking out of the top. He couldn’t read the title but recognized the romance-novel typeface. His ex, Rachel, read those kinds of books. The words looked like cake icing, purple and swirly.

“Pleasure reading?” Joe asked as they walked toward the lobby with at least two feet between them. “You’re going to read during my niece’s wedding?”

“Bee would expect nothing less from me,” Vicki said, allowing a quick smile. “I’ll try not to read through the vows.”

Joe laughed, maybe too loud, he thought. He kept himself a few feet behind her, suppressing the urge to reach over and hug her.

She didn’t look like the original Vicki, not her face at least, but there was something similar about her default expression—a melancholy, detached pout—that allowed him to continue his fantasy.

Reno Vicki and Maryland Vicki had similar bodies: small and almost elfinlike. The sack dress didn’t stop Joe from being able to make out Vicki’s small frame and tiny breasts. She didn’t appear to be athletic, just naturally thin—probably the kind of girl who ate candy for breakfast and smoked cigarettes during lunch, he thought.

Joe’s girlfriend, Sarah, whom he suddenly remembered was waiting for him in Vegas, was the opposite of that type of girl. She was always working out, always running. Joe had started to resent Sarah’s constant training for half marathons, the fact that she now spent every Sunday morning taking a long jog with one of her friends from boot camp, a program that required her to get up at 5:00 a.m. to do military-style exercises on the already-hot Nevada pavement. Her routine reminded him of Donna.

Joe eyed Vicki with his peripheral vision now that they were moving through the lobby side by side. Her shoulders were tense, her posture unyielding. She eyed the framed nautical prints on the walls and let out a sigh to fill the uncomfortable silence.

When they reached the front door, he saw her dig through her clutch once again, this time grabbing her car keys. Joe let out a small cough to remind her he was there and spoke up, his voice insecure.

“Why don’t you drive over with me? We’re going to the same place. I don’t mind giving you a lift.”