10:35 P.M.

“YOU’VE BARELY SAID ANYTHING,” Jessica says to Tobias. I have felt her anxiety building. Since I sat down, really, but particularly after Robert’s confession, her tears about her mother. The table had been in relative silence for the last few minutes in eager anticipation of our desserts, which are still not here.

“I haven’t?”

Jessica shakes her head. “No, you haven’t. You keep reacting to everyone else. I still don’t know what you really think about all of us.”

Conrad raises his eyebrow at me. “You’re a tough critic, Jessica,” he says.

“Understatement,” Tobias says, but he’s smiling.

“Well,” Audrey says. “Maybe she’s right, Tobias. What do you think about all of this?”

“It’s strange.”

“Obviously,” Jessica says, impatient.

“I feel sad,” he says. “Sad that Sabby was in pain, that I couldn’t or didn’t do anything about it. That I died. That wasn’t great.”

He looks up at me, and I see his right eyebrow is raised, as if he’s asking for a smile. I give him one.

“You are the great love of my life,” he says. He puts a hand on my face. His fingertips feel like relief.

“This isn’t what I meant,” Jessica says.

“Jess, stop,” I say.

“No, I won’t. He’s dead, remember?”

Something cold blooms in my veins. “Yes,” I say. I feel a chill and hug my sweater closer. “And I’m trying to fix that.”

“I want Tobias to be alive as much as the next guy,” Jessica says, gesturing idly toward Conrad.

“Thanks,” Tobias tells her. “I think?”

“But,” she says, holding up her hand. “I think it’s a disservice to pretend like everything was always perfect with you guys. It wasn’t. There was so much that didn’t work. You knew it, too. That’s why you wouldn’t go to L.A. with him.”

“That’s not true,” I say. “I had a job, remember? I had a life…”

“Oh, come on! It wasn’t because you were afraid of him cheating on you or your father leaving or any of those bullshit reasons you’ve given. You weren’t sure he was right for you.”

Tobias looks to me, but Jessica keeps talking. “I’m sorry, Sabby, but if we’re going to do this, we should do it right. There isn’t just your side to this story.”

“That’s not true,” I say.

“It is,” Jessica says. “You knew he was an artist. You worried about financial stability. You saw him prioritize photography over everything else. Just admit it.”

“Stop,” Tobias says. He throws his hands in the air. It’s the most animated I’ve seen him all night. “Sabby knew what she meant to me.”

“Did she?” Jessica asks. “Because I’m sitting here, ten years later, and I still don’t know for sure.” Jessica looks back to me. “You wanted what people want. You wanted to get married. You wanted to know you could pay the rent. You wanted someone who showed up. That wasn’t a crime. It still isn’t.”

I look to Tobias. I feel ashamed all of a sudden—exposed. Like this conversation should be happening in private. Not in front of Robert and Conrad and Audrey Hepburn.

“Is that true?” Tobias asks.

“Sometimes,” I say, because it’s all I can say, barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t sure we’d ever get there together.”

Tobias looks devastated. It makes me want to weep.

“I need you to know you were always more than enough for me,” he says. He swallows. “Now. Tonight.”

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” I say. “I…”

“How delusional are you?” Jessica asks. She raises her voice until she’s practically screaming. A few lingering diners even look over. “You’re not getting him back! You can’t fix it, and you know that, and I can’t sit by and let you delude yourself anymore. Take responsibility or don’t. But when tonight is over you’ll be alone again.”

Her words tear through me like teeth. I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me.

“Jessica,” Tobias cuts in. “I think that’s enough.”

Jessica looks at Tobias. I swear I think she might leap over me and pummel him.

“I’m sorry,” Tobias continues. “I never apologized to you. After L.A. I’m sure it wasn’t easy having to pick up the pieces.”

“That’s such a convenient narrative,” Jessica says. Her tone is bitter. “The sad young artist who needs to go off and find himself, and the woman who cries herself to sleep at night missing him. You’re not characters in a novel. You’re human. And neither of you will just fucking admit it.”

“You’re an artist? I thought you were a photographer,” Conrad says, interrupting the tension.

“It’s a category!” Jessica snaps. She’s getting even more worked up.

Tobias puts his hand up to his forehead and holds it there. “I don’t know what you want us to say.”

“Something!” Jessica says. “Anything. You heard Robert.” She gestures to him with her head. “We only get this one night. Do you want to go back over every detail, or do you want to try and help Sabby move on?”

“No,” I say. “Don’t help me move on.” She’s leading us off course. I have to right the ship.

It’s now that our dessert arrives. The waiter appears with a tray and starts setting things down. Soufflés and the ice cream and a complimentary sorbet. He asks if we need anything else, and when no one answers Audrey politely waves him off.

My words are still hanging there. I feel Jessica, tense, next to me. All other eyes are on Tobias.

He shifts toward me, and I think he’s going to take my hand again—I want him to take my hand again—but instead he kisses me. He puts one hand firmly on the side of my face, right up against my ear, and his lips on mine. They’re cool—like he’s just taken a sip of ice water. But soon the sensation gives way to a folding so big it feels like collapse. It’s like I’m being sucked through a vortex to a place that is him. He’s not there; it is him. And then it’s us. Alone together in some suspended place. And it’s then that I realize the collapsing isn’t space at all but time. Here, now, he’s still alive; we’re still together. There is no separation. There is no before or after. There’s just us on the beach in Santa Monica, us in our apartment, us playing Scrabble with Matty, cooking dinner with Jessica. Memories piled high on top of one another, and the moment stretched so big it covers them all.