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A different Jay.

But Dex just takes the backpack and duffle bag from Jay’s hands. “Let me take those.” He holds up the backpack and starts walking across the room. “This one yours, Jay?”

Before Jay can tell him yes, he tosses it on the couch. Then he goes to the spare bedroom turned den turned office and chucks my duffle bag in there. “Jay you get the couch. Ada you get the spare bedroom.”

“Cool,” I say, trying to sound cool too. “Thanks for letting us stay over, by the way. I know it’s last minute and you guys are busy.”

“Ada,” Perry says, handing Jay his glass of beer and me the wine, “you’re my sister. You could have just showed up unannounced and it would have been fine.”

“Besides,” Dex says, taking the other glass of beer, “you’re a great excuse to get out of the damn apartment. I’ve been working too hard all week and if I didn’t have a reason to stop, Perry was going to divorce me.”

“Oh stop,” she says. “But I was going to tell you that we’ve made dinner reservations for tonight.”

“Don’t tell me Zeke’s Pizza again.”

“No,” Dex says dryly, knowing full-well that every time I’m here we end up eating at the pizza place because it’s right around the corner. “A little place up in Fremont. They have Italian waiters who kiss you on the cheek when you come in. I love it.”

“You mean The Olive Garden?”

“Well aren’t you picky, little fifteen.”

I stick my tongue out at him.

“Cheers for needed escapes then,” I say, raising my glass of wine. Everyone else does the same, Jay reaching over me as we all lean toward each other to clink our glasses.

It turns out that the dinner reservation was actually for six people. When we get to the restaurant, around the corner from the famous Fremont troll, which, despite its cartoonish appearance, is terrifying to me in a completely irrational way, two other people from our party are already there, waiting by the doors.

I’ve met them before and I call them the odd couple because I’m not quite sure what’s up with them. Rebecca is gorgeous, a British rockabilly pin-up girl type that could be an even prettier version of Kat Von D. With her is Dean, cocoa-skinned and cool as a cucumber. The two of them have a baby together but as far as I know she’s a lesbian and he’s straight. But hey, I’m not one to judge.

After the quick formalities—Jay is introduced as a friend of mine—we take our seats and get drinking, the Chianti (I get a Coke) and breadsticks flowing.

The conversation comes easy. Rebecca is talkative, as is Dex, and the two of them dominate the entire table to the point where it’s almost a competition of who can be louder and more engaging.

Occasionally a question is hurtled my way and it seems Rebecca has a checklist about my design school. Actually it’s nice to be able to talk to someone about this who actually cares and has an interest in fashion. It comes to the point that Jay goes and switches seats with Rebecca so she can grill me some more. Even having him a few chairs down from me feels hollow and wrong but Rebecca does a good job of making me forget every strange and horrifying thing that lies in my future. I’m pretending, just for a bit, that the only things I have to worry about are what kind of designs I need for my portfolio and what outfit I’ll wear the first day of school.

“I’ll tell you what,” Rebecca says, her English accent coming out stronger now as she leans lazily on her elbows, swigging her wine. “If you need a model for your projects, count me in. I know I’ve had a baby but I can wear a corset like no one’s business.”

“Where is your child, anyway?” Dex asks, pretending to look under the table. “Lucinda?”

“Seb has her,” she says, which makes everyone at the table laugh, except for Jay and I. That’s the problem with hanging out with this crowd, you end up feeling lost all the time and missing all the inside jokes.

My eyes glance down the table at Jay and I can’t help but smile at the sight of him. They might all have their own stories and their own worlds, but Jay is my story, my world. Perry and Dex may not trust him but this is the man who’s willing to go to Hell and back with me. You can’t ask for much more than that.

As if sensing me, Jay looks up from nodding at Dean over something and holds my gaze. It bolts me to the chair, the chair to the floor. Roots me there. Grounds me.

He doesn’t say anything, his expression doesn’t change to the naked eye but I know he’s telling me he’s there.