They’d had sex in that study. More than once. Had they really been as happy as he remembered? As it seemed? Could any couple be that perfect together?

“Sorry, what?” He realized he’d missed out on some conversation.

“No problem, Josh, no problem. You’re still grieving. I understand, man. It’s not easy. Takes time.” Ken took a swig of wine.

“Did you lose someone, too?” Sarah asked, looking up from the chopping. Josh was wondering the same thing.

“No. Nope. I’ve been lucky so far. I’m just . . . well, people say I’m very compassionate. In fact, one of the reasons I liked Sarah so much was because she told me a lot about Lauren, and I could see how much of a bond they had. It was very . . . affecting.”

They smiled at each other, and then Ken turned back to him. “What do you do for work, Josh?”

“I’m a medical device engineer,” he said. Sarah was bustling around the kitchen, opening a drawer, pulling out a serving spoon. She knew where everything was, quite at home. It irked him a little, even if she knew their kitchen because of all the time she’d spent helping out. But it wasn’t fair. Why did Lauren have to die? Why was it Lauren? He’d stab Sarah through the heart right this minute if it could make his wife come back.

“Cool,” said Ken, and Josh didn’t know what he was commenting on.

“He’s selling himself short,” Sarah said, smiling. “Josh is kind of a big deal. He’s sold . . . what, twelve patents? Five that are already on the market?”

“Nine. Nine patents, five on the market.”

“So it’s a pretty lucrative field for you, Josh?”

Was it him, or was Ken using his name an awful lot? Maybe that was what normal people did, a method to remember names. “Sure. I mean, so far, yes. Um . . . I should finish cooking here.”

It would be hours before he was alone again in the apartment. An eternity. He got a pan out for the rice and started boiling water.

This is hard, Lauren, he thought. I’d like to call you later and tell you what a failure it was, but you were incredibly rude and died. His throat tightened at the memory of her last hours. No. Absolutely not. He would not revisit that time. Ever.

The thought made him relax the tiniest bit. He could put that day away. It would be best that way. Far better to think of her smile, her laugh, her freckles, her eyes.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

Darius and Jen returned from the bedroom, thank God, and sat with Ken in the living room. Ken asked Darius about his profession, how much he traveled, where they lived. It was so weird to have a stranger here, but the conversation was like white noise, and Josh was grateful that no one was asking him anything at the moment. Sarah set the table while Jen sat on the couch with Pebbles and stared out the window, wiping away tears from time to time.

Josh fried the chicken, set it to dry and reheated the glaze he’d made earlier. Shit. He’d been planning to grill the broccoli on the roof. Nah. Too much effort, and plus he wasn’t sure how clean that grill was . . . the last time he’d used it, he’d burned his clothes. Steaming the broccoli would be fine. Darius came into the kitchen, opened another bottle of wine—everyone was having some except Josh—and went back to the living room.

“It’s funny that you don’t drink at all,” Lauren had said once. “Most people have at least tried alcohol.”

“I don’t see a reason to,” he said. This was on their second date. She stared at him like he was an interesting riddle, her brows drawn, a faint smile on her lips, and he smiled back, his stomach thrumming with attraction and the strangest feeling . . . that he belonged with her. That they were meant to be together. That the flirty college girl cliché he’d first met a few years earlier had grown into something . . . more. Deeper. Wiser.

And maybe he’d gotten out of his own way, finally. He hadn’t allowed himself to have much fun in college, so focused on work, on making a difference, on being someone who mattered despite having a father who had never bothered to even learn his name. He had no room for anything else.

But that night, looking at her face, her pretty eyes the color of cognac or brandy, feeling like he belonged to her already, Josh decided he had plenty of room after all.

A sharp smell pierced his memories.

Fuck. The glaze was burning. He yanked the pan off the burner and flapped a dishtowel in the air so the smoke detector wouldn’t go off. Sarah leaped up from the couch to help, but it went off anyway, bleating his failure. Darius and Ken opened the windows, and Jen opened the door, and Pebbles whirled in circles, barking at the painful noise.

After an eternity, it stopped. Josh’s ears were ringing. The glaze was charred but still liquid.

“It’ll be fine,” Sarah said. “I mean, who doesn’t like a little scorching? Seriously, it smells even better.”

She really was a good person. “Thanks, Sarah.”

She lowered her voice. “Hang in there, buddy. We won’t stay long.”

He looked at her, surprised that she’d read his mind. “That obvious?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. Ken’s nice, by the way.”

“He is. Very . . . energetic. Not that way. Well, maybe he is. I don’t know. We haven’t . . . I’ll stop talking.”

He nearly smiled. “Why don’t you herd everyone to the table?” he asked, and she did. He put the chicken on the rice, drizzled the blackened sauce over it. He’d made too much, and some slopped over the edge. He added sesame seeds. Lauren had loved this dish.

Crap. The broccoli was on the stove. He turned to check it, finding it way overcooked, a dull, ugly green. He tested it with a fork; it disintegrated into mush.

Then came a clatter and the crash of something breaking.