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Eli opened his mouth, only to be preemptively silenced by the hand Aster lifted. A quiet sort of authority emanated from him. He pointed to an armchair opposite Bentley.

“Eli. Just—sit,” Aster said. Molly braced herself for anger; she nearly jumped when the satchel Aster had slung over his shoulder slipped to the ground with a small thud. “I was going to tell you. I promise,” Aster said, and Molly realized he was speaking to her, not Eli.

“I—what?”

“It’s—they’re—on the list of things to reintroduce you to,” he said, taking a small step forward. “There’s just so much—six years, after all. I’ve been doing the mugs first because, well, you wanted to know more about what’s in the spare room. And it’s different with my friends. You didn’t really know them before, and I don’t have any convenient knickknacks to . . .” He trailed off, endearing in his rambling sincerity.

“You’re . . . not mad?” Molly asked, bewildered.

Aster blinked, head tilting. “I mean, I’m a bit annoyed with him,” he said with a nod in Eli’s direction. “I asked them to give you space for a while.” Aster paused, searching her. “Are you not mad?”

“I—” Molly started. “No, I don’t think so. Should I be?”

“I guess I assumed you would be?” Aster said, taking another small step: a push. He answered like he was asking a question. “Yet another thing about your life I haven’t told you yet.” He sounded exhausted with himself as he said it.

Molly found herself taking her own tiny step: a pull. “I’m trying to be more patient,” she admitted. “You’re right. Six years is a lot of ground to cover.”

“And I’m trying. I promise I am. I’m trying to find the right way to tell you everything. I guess you noticed Eli in your contacts when we restored your phone? I thought you might, but I’m impressed you reconnected so quickly.”

The distance between them had shrunk by half again. Molly cleared her throat, a twinge of guilt making itself known in her stomach.

“Ah, well. I suppose you should know. I actually met Eli, well, met him again, a few weeks ago.”

Molly ignored the quiet “et tu, Brute?” whispered by Eli in the background.

“A few weeks,” Aster repeated, mental math evident on his face. His gaze shifted to Eli, whose hands immediately shot up in defense.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Eli said in a rush. “You’re thinking, ‘Wow, Eli, my best friend. I am so shocked that you have less respect for my wishes than Justine does’—which, to be fair, was a surprise to me too—but you were having a terrible time. And I just wanted to help. And I’d appreciate it if when you murder me, you don’t mess up my face too badly. I think the people deserve an open casket.”

Aster massaged a slow circle at his temple. “Are you finished?”

“If I keep talking, do my chances of survival increase?”

“I’m not planning to murder you, Eli.”

“Funny, Molly also declined causing me bodily harm recently. Remarkably pacifist, the two of you.”

Aster glanced at Molly. She gave a small shrug, amused more than anything.

“I almost don’t have to explain them to you now. I think this sums us up pretty well,” Aster said, shifting his weight and failing to conceal a smile.

“Eli and I were going to have lunch,” she said. “Maybe we could all have lunch together? If it’s alright to impose on Eli?”

“You can always impose on Eli, because he won’t hesitate to impose on you,” Aster said, now fully smiling. Then he sighed, smile fading. “But Bentley and I have to go back to work.”

From the corner of her eye, Molly saw the butt end of a cigarette fly in an arch before landing on the ground. She mentally catalogued that Aster worked with Bentley.

“Not on the goddamn carpets, Bentley.” Eli lunged for the discarded cigarette filter. “These are early nineteenth century, you new-money heathen.” He threw it back at Bentley before returning to his seat.

“I’ll be honest, I was expecting more drama,” Bentley said, rising. “It’s a good thing Justine’s in Quebec for another week, because as soon as she finds out Aster was making empty threats about contacting Molly again . . .” Bentley trailed off, letting the rest of his sentence, and all the unspoken implications that came with it, hang.

“Silver lining there,” Eli said. “She knows. Wouldn’t say she was thrilled about it, hence the whole mental health sabbatical or whatever she’s calling it.”

“If I could just,” Molly began, tentatively lifting a hand as if requesting permission to speak. “I think what I’m getting from this is that I’m also, what, friends? With Justine too?”

Unmistakable eye contact passed between Eli and Bentley. Aster looked like he’d just been asked to calculate the digits of pi to the nearest billionth.

After several lingering seconds of silence, Aster finally said, “Could I request a rain check on Justine? I mean, the short answer is yes. But the long answer is . . . longer. And I didn’t realize she was hiding out in an entirely different country in order to give you the space I asked for.”