Page 108 of Don't Tell

"Cade."

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"You are not fine."

"I'm fine, Cade."

"Mom."

"He had a migraine at 4:00 a.m. I told him to stay home. He said I would be cross with him. So here he is, being a martyr."

She kisses the side of Henry's head.

He pretends not to be pleased.

Theo crashes into us from the other direction with his arms open.

"You absolute bastard."

"Theo."

"You are in California and you did not text me."

"You have been in Monaco."

"That is not an excuse, Cade."

He hugs Suzanne, then me. His clap on the shoulder lands hard enough that the ring box presses against my ribs and I almost laugh.

He turns to Suzanne.

"Has my friend been overbearing?"

"Always."

"Good. Stay with him. He is more fun when he is overbearing than when he is brooding. I have known him since we were eleven."

"Theo."

"I'm stating a fact, Cade."

We move through the room.

Suzanne is greeting people she has met at three of these in the last four months. She has a composure in rooms like this now that is not performance. It is her. She is talking to a collector across the floor about a piece of hers she has decided not to sell, and the collector — a man who has been buying art in this city since 1987 — is leaning toward her the way men lean toward an artist they have decided to chase.

I watch her from 3 ft. away.

I have to work to swallow.

The ring is against my chest.

I excuse myself to the bar.

Beau intercepts me halfway there.

"Tell me you have not lost it."