Stuart, as if sensing her train of thought, sounded a little chastised when he spoke again. “Can we be serious?”

“Please.” Her anger was rising again.

“I’ve been a complete ass. I know I have, and you don’t even need to make me feel bad, since I already do. I was checking my phone yesterday when I was going to call you and realized that you’d tried to get in touch six times last month. You even called me on Christmas, which is the saddest thing ever, by the way. I’m a shit for missing that. Anyway, guess how many times I called you back?”

“Not once,” Ryann said.

“Exactly. I’m sorry, Ryann. I really am. What I did was inexcusable. The flowers might be kind of a joke, but I did want to show you how sorry I am for what I did—well, didn’t do.”

She was quiet again, suddenly overwhelmed and almost choking on sorrow and rage. Christmas had been a low point. It was a terrible day for her every year, and she’d wanted to hear at least one friendly voice. When he’d lived in town, the two of them got drunk together and watched bad musicals all day, singing along and making fun of each other, screaming and laughing to the point of hoarseness. The year before last, they’d been apart but had managed a version of their ritual via videoconference. This year, she’d been entirely alone. She’d gotten very, very drunk and cried herself to sleep. That had been almost four weeks ago, and she hadn’t tried to call him since.

Again, as if sensing her train of thought, he didn’t make her respond. “But hey, listen,” he said. “I hope what I tell you next will go a little way toward explaining what happened.”

“Uh-huh,” she managed, blinking rapidly. The last thing she needed to do was cry at work, and she’d almost done that twice now.

“Okay, hon—you better be sitting down.” There was a long, dramatic pause. “I’m getting married.”

She jumped up, her wheeled desk chair flying into the windows behind her. “You’re what?!”

He laughed. “I’m getting married, you old fag hag, and I want you to be my maid of honor!”

“Hold the fuck on—to whom? Who the hell would marry you?”

He laughed again. “Do you remember me mentioning this guy I met last year about this time—Jai?”