I hate Peter. Okay, hate’s a strong word. I dislike him very, very, very much. Thankfully, Dean and I prepared for this question on the way over, and as we agreed then, I take the lead now. Leaning ever so slightly toward Dean, I clasp my hands together and take a deep breath. “It happened over time, actually. We’d been roommates for a while, having met through mutual family and friends who knew I was looking for a flexible rooming situation. And because I was always coming and going, we were comfortable simply existing in the same space. Best part? We didn’t even share the same bathroom.”

It still blows my mind that Dean has two bathrooms in his unit. What I wouldn’t give not to share one with Brandon. He treats my period like a string of garlic hanging around my neck, and some days I just want to fling menstrual products everywhere so he can understand how much he doesn’t see because I’m a considerate (and relatively neat) person.

“Want to try?” Dean asks softly, sliding his plate of palak chaat closer to me.

“Yes, please,” I say. I’ve been eyeing his crispy spinach appetizer since it arrived at the table, so I’m delighted that faking a relationship means I get to sample his food too.

Dean wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin and clears his throat. “See, I met Ella about six months ago and thought I’d found the one. But Solange was never convinced we were right together, and I ignored the warning signs. Solange said I deserved more. That I should be head-over-heels in love. I thought she was being way too romantic for her own good. We talked a lot in the run-up to the wedding. Solange forced me to do a ton of soul-searching. But I’m a stubborn guy, so I just charged forward with my plans because I have a hard time doing anything else.”

Poor Dean. He’s so earnest as he says this, I can’t help thinking that he’s noticeably skilled at telling this tale because it’s mostly true. Just swap out my name for Max’s, and I bet it absolutely is.

“The gag is that Ella was in love with someone else,” Peter blurts out, clearly impatient to get to the juicy parts.

“Oh no,” Nia says, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “That’s awful.”

“You don’t have to share this with us,” Kimberly says to Dean. “If you want to keep it a private matter, you’re more than welcome to.”

Knowing that Peter’s a jerk with no sense of what’s appropriate in a social setting, Dean and I planned for this too.