Ryan came up with his plate and sat down on the step in front of the sweetheart table, which nobody had invited him to do, and nobody moved him.

“I have to make a toast in an hour,” he said.

“You could make it now.”

“No.” He cut into his salmon.

“Ethan.

Your passport is in the desk drawer at home.

Olivia.

The key to the garage door doesn’t work, so use the front.”