“Pebbles!” Jen said, and yep, the dog was eating the dakgangjeong off the floor. Wolfing it down without pausing to chew.

“Pebbles! No!” Josh said, but she just wagged her tail and kept going for it.

“Bad dog,” said Darius, his deep voice scaring her. She glanced at him, took a final bite, then ran down the hall, clots of rice and sauce in her wake, her muzzle and paws coated in dark red sauce, as if she’d just eaten a baby antelope.

That shit was sticky. Was their bedroom door open? Yes, it was. Goddamn it. The dog would mess up Lauren’s room, and it was his own fault. He ran down the hall. The spice had caught up with Pebbles, and she was rubbing her muzzle on the fluffy white rug Lauren had loved. Reddish-black paw prints already marred the pure white comforter. The room looked like a crime scene. “Pebbles!” he shouted, his voice way too loud. “You’re very bad!”

She bowed her head, and it hit him in the heart. This was Lauren’s dog. Lauren’s friend.

“I’m sorry,” he said, closing the door so she couldn’t trash the rest of the house. “You’re very beautiful. You’re a good girl.” She wagged her tail, then threw up. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”

She came to his knee, and he patted her sticky head. Went into the master bathroom, grabbed some towels, cleaned her up as best he could and closed her in the guest room. He’d deal with the mess when everyone left.

With a sigh, he went back to the kitchen. Sarah was wiping up the stream of burnt sauce that had sloshed on the side of the island. “Ken, grab me the Windex from under the sink,” she said. Darius was on his phone, and Jen was leaning on the counter, watching.

The platter that broke had been a wedding gift from Lauren’s boss. It was from Italy, Josh thought.

“We can probably still eat this food,” Ken said, looking at the mess, the broken platter. “There’s a lot left.”

“No, we can’t,” Jen said, her wineglass in her hand. “The dog just ate it, there are shards of broken porcelain in there, and it’s on the floor, where all our shoes have been. So . . . we’re not eating it, Ken.”

“Yeah, no,” Ken said. “I just . . . it’s a shame, that’s all. Josh. Nice try, man.”

“Maybe we should go,” Jen said.

Yes, go, he thought. But then he’d have to do this again some other night, if he wanted to follow Lauren’s instructions. She thought he should do this; do this, he would.

“Please stay,” Josh said. “I’ll order something. Don’t go yet.” He looked at Sarah, who nodded. He hadn’t told her about Lauren’s letters. Maybe Lauren had told her. Regardless, they were all here, he was going to stick with the plan, damn it.

“I’m on it,” Darius said, taking his phone out. “Everyone okay with pizza?”

“The faster the better,” Jen said.

Forty minutes later, after he’d cleaned up the kitchen mess and tried unsuccessfully to make conversation, and Ken had given up on gluing the platter back together, the pizza arrived. Josh sat down, exhausted. Took a sip of water.

They ate. The pizza was awful, and they chewed grimly. Jen scratched her arm. Her face was flushed, but she kept drinking wine. Who could blame her? Sarah had offered to make a salad, but he didn’t have lettuce, and she’d used up his remaining vegetables for the appetizer. He served the flaccid broccoli, noticing Darius shudder as he took a bite.

Someone mentioned that baseball had started up again, and the Sox had lost two-thirds of their games so far. Typical.

“Funny story,” Ken said, and Josh jumped a little. “My real name is Kenobi. My parents are total Star Wars geeks.”

“Well, that’s a fucking curse, isn’t it?” Jen said, and Darius subtly moved her wineglass a few inches away from her. “Is your brother named Darth Vader?”

“No, but my sister is Leia.”

“Shouldn’t you be Luke, then?” Jen asked.

“Our dog is Luke. Was. He died a long time ago.”

There was an awkward silence. “Star Wars is a great movie,” Josh offered.

“‘Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi,’” Sarah supplied. “‘You’re my only hope.’”

Ken(obi) grinned. “I will help you,” he said. “I will totally help you, Sarah. And all of you. Jen. Darius. Josh. In fact, now that we’re all pretty much done with dinner, I have something I want to show you guys.”

“You do?” Sarah asked.

“I do! Come on, let’s go in the living room.” He got up, went to his messenger bag by the front door and pulled out a laptop.

“We should go,” Jen said. “We have children. Who are not named after Star Wars characters. But maybe next time, huh, D? Little Lando Calrissian? Baby Kylo Ren?”

“Okay, hon, tone it down,” Darius said, trying to hide his laugh. “We can stay a little longer.”

“Right,” Jen whispered loudly. “We can’t leave Josh all by himself with this weirdo.”

Josh was grateful.

“This will only take a second,” Obi-Wan Kenobi said. “I promise, you’ll love it.”

Was he going to show cat videos? What . . . Josh looked at Sarah, who shrugged and grimaced.

“So you’re probably thinking, ‘Ken, what can you do for me?’”

“Teach us to use the Force?” Jen asked, then snort-laughed.

Ken was undeterred. “And I get that, I do. So here’s the deal. Darius, my brother—”

“Nope. Not your brother,” Darius interrupted.

“Sure! No worries! Darius, you look like a guy who works out a lot. Right? Football at UNC, you said. Awesome team, my broth—uh, man! But are you feeling a little tired these days?”