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Liv starts the first game, which is called “Human or Robot?” and involves reading anonymous quotes and guessing whether they came from a real boyfriend or an AI chatbot. The twist is that several quotes are things Aiden has actually said, submitted by Liv, who has been keeping a list.

“Okay, quote number one.” Liv clears her throat. “‘Your posture suggests chronic lumbar stress.’”

“Robot,” everyone says.

“That was Aiden. To a stranger. In a hardware store.”

“Quote number two: ‘I’ve monitored your caloric intake and it’s insufficient.’”

“Robot,” everyone says.

“Also Aiden. To Ruby. While feeding her more.”

“Quote number three: ‘I don’t understand why you need a second, smaller pair of pants underneath the first pair of pants.’”

“That could go either way,” Avery says.

“Aiden. About underwear. In a fitting room. While Liv was present.”

“I was present and I was BLESSED,” Liv confirms.

Mom is laughing so hard her sash is sliding off her shoulder. Gemma is taking notes. Avery is shaking her head slowly, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

The second game is “Pin the Belly Button on the Boyfriend,” which is exactly what it sounds like and which Liv created using a life-size poster of a male torso that she insists she found “at a party supply store.”

I’m blindfolded and spun and I pin the belly button approximately where his left hip would be, which generates a round of commentary I choose not to engage with.

Mom pins hers on his chest and says “close enough” and finishes her cocktail.

Somewhere between the third game and the cake—the cake is shaped like a robot with a frosting heart, because Liv has no limits—I step onto the balcony.

The night air is cool. The city hums below. Inside, I can hear Liv starting another round of something and Avery’s low laugh and my mother’s voice rising above everything because Karen Hart has never spoken at a volume below “everyone in the room needs to hear this.”

I lean against the railing and look at the ring on my finger. It’s simple—a thin band with a small stone that catches light. Aiden didn’t buy it. He made it. I don’t know how, and when I asked, he said “I researched metalworking for three weeks and then I made it” like that was a normal sentence. Like teaching yourself an entire craft to make a ring for the woman you love is something men just do.

The stone glows faintly in certain light. I don’t ask what it’s made of. Some questions are better left unanswered.

The balcony door opens. Avery steps out, wine in hand, and leans against the railing next to me.

We stand there for a minute. Quiet. Looking at the city.

“You good?” she asks.

“Yeah.” I turn the ring on my finger. “Just… taking a second.”

“To do what?”

“To make sure this is real. That I’m actually doing this.”

Avery sips her wine. “You’re getting cold feet?”

“No. The opposite. I’m getting—” I search for the word. “Overwhelmed. By how good it is. Like I’m waiting for the thing that goes wrong because something always goes wrong, and this time nothing’s going wrong, and that makes me more nervous than if something was.”

“Ruby.”

“Yeah?”

“You found a man who can’t lie to you. Who makes you breakfast. Who memorized your business plan because he noticed you were nervous. Who tried to leave because he thought you deserved better and then couldn’t make his feet move.” She looks at me. “That’s not a thing that goes wrong. That’s a thing you stop questioning and start enjoying.”