Chloe was the person Logan had been trained, since childhood, to rescue.

She had a genius — I do not use the word lightly — for developing a crisis at the precise moment Logan’s attention was directed somewhere else, and most especially when it was directed at me.

There was the sudden mental health crisis right before our wedding, which required Logan to cancel our appointment with the wedding photographer to drive her to the hospital.

There was the day we went to the marriage license bureau, when Chloe’s car mysteriously broke down, so that my future husband dispatched his family’s private driver to collect her while I arrived at city hall alone, in an Uber, on the very day I got the license to marry him.

Each incident, taken by itself, was explicable.

A friend in trouble.