The pool was half-empty—all of the people who’d been splashing in it had transferred much of the water onto her yard. There were plastic cups all over the place. Huge areas of her lawn were covered in broken porcelain. Blue and white chargers and dinner plates and teacups and saucers were all in pieces around her palm trees. Nina thought it was sort of fitting that her wedding china had been destroyed.

“I never liked that china,” she told Casey. “Brandon’s mother insisted that I had to pick out something floral but I think having fine china is sort of silly. And anyway, I wanted the bird pattern.”

“Why didn’t you get the birds, then?” Casey asked.

Nina looked at her and frowned. “I …” she began to say, but then changed the subject. “Do you smoke?” she said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her nightstand drawer. She offered one to Casey.

“Oh, no but, uh … OK,” Casey said. She took the unlit cigarette from Nina’s hand and put it to her mouth.

Nina lit it and then lit her own.

Casey took a drag and coughed. “You were saying …” she said once she caught her breath. “About the birds. Why didn’t you get them?”

Nina looked at Casey and then out the window, considering the question. The crowd was starting to shift, and as it did, Nina saw something startling. Her brothers, her sister, and her father, all together, walking down the stairs to the beach.

“Because I’m a doormat,” Nina said. “I’m a human doormat.” She put her cigarette out. “Fuck it. You stay here. I’m gonna go talk to Mick Riva.”

3:00 A.M.

Ted Travis was hell-bent on self-destruction.

He was the biggest, highest-paid star on network TV but none of that had mattered to him since his wife died last year. He felt like he was falling apart inside—sobbing alone in his huge house, hiring hookers, shoplifting, upgrading from the occasional coke binge to a full-blown speed addiction—but all of the chaos of his soul wasn’t showing on the outside.

When he looked in the mirror, he could see he was just getting handsomer and handsomer. Turns out, he looked even better with gray hair than he had with brown. Sometimes, when he looked at his own reflection, he could hear the ghost of Willa’s voice in his head, laughing, telling him he had no right to age so well without her. Drinking quieted it.

At Nina’s party, Ted had already downed half a bottle of whiskey, lost four grand on a bet to that girl from Flashdance, and then fallen asleep fully clothed in the shallow end of the pool. Someone had cannonballed into the water and woken him up. He climbed out.

But then: her.

A forty-three-year-old script supervisor named Victoria Brooks.

He came across her in the living room when his clothes had just stopped dripping. She was tall and lean and didn’t have a single curve on her body. She had bleached blond hair and dark eyebrows and a face that was positively breathtaking in profile.

“Ted,” he said, putting out his hand as he walked up to her.

Vickie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know who you are.”

“And you are?”

“Vickie.”

“Beautiful name. Let me get you a drink,” Ted said as he gave her his TV smile.

Vickie blew her cigarette away from both of them, her left hand pinning a highball of vodka and soda against her right arm. “I have one, thanks.”

“What do I have to do to get a smile out of you?” he asked her.

Vickie rolled her eyes again. “Sober up, maybe. You’ve embarrassed yourself about ten times already tonight.”

Ted laughed. “You’re right about that. I keep trying to find a way to enjoy myself. But it’s pointless. I’m too goddamn sad all the time.”

Vickie finally looked Ted in the eye.

She was sad, too. God, she was sad. Her husband had died in a boating accident seven years ago and she had resigned herself to loneliness since then. She was not willing to love again, if this was how it felt.

“One drink,” Vickie said, surprising herself.

Ted smiled. He got her a fresh vodka soda, straightened his damp clothes, and went back to her.

“I want to take you out,” he said. “So what should I do to convince you? Are you a grand gesture sort of lady?”

Vickie sighed. “I guess so? But I’m not going on a date with you.”

Ted smiled exactly the way he did on Cool Nights. He was just going through the motions but he was good at pretending. That’s why they paid him so much money to do it.

“C’mon, I might just charm you. Watch this.” He started looking around for the easiest way to make a scene. He settled on swinging from the chandelier.

Ted handed Vickie his drink and started climbing onto the mantel. He pointed at a surfer by the coffee table. “Hey, man, pass me the chandelier, would you?”

The guy, content to play along, stood on top of the coffee table and grabbed the base of the chandelier, slowly moving it toward Ted. Ted grabbed a handful of the crystals on the bottom.

“Vickie, let me take you to dinner!” he said. And then he swung himself across the room, hanging on for dear life. He hit the opposite wall and then let go, crashing onto the sofa with the howl of an injured animal.

Vickie found herself running to him.

“Are you OK?” she said. “Come on, get up.” She put her arms around Ted to help him.

The warmth of her hands made him feel, for one half second, no longer alone. Instead of standing up with her, he pulled her down to him. “Can I kiss you?” he said and when she smiled, he did it. She felt his soft lips on hers and she did not balk. A thrill ran through her like a bolt.

She pulled back, speechless. And then, drunk and confused and momentarily desperate for the very thing she thought she’d never want again, she kissed him once more. It may have looked absurd from the outside, but it felt sort of magical to the two of them. The surprise of sincere desire.

The people around them cheered as another idiot decided to try to swing from the chandelier.

But Ted was already planning his next escapade. “Have you ever stolen something, Vickie?” he asked, as his eyebrows went up and a smile crept over his face.

Ashley wiped her eyes, pulled herself together, and walked out of the bathroom. She stepped over broken glass and crushed pita, hummus smeared across the tiles of the floor. She went out to the front stoop and gave her ticket to the valet.

For some reason, she felt strongly that the baby was a boy. And she liked the name Benjamin. If it did turn out to be a girl, maybe something like Lauren.

The rest of it … who knew? Jay would forgive Hud or he wouldn’t. Hud would come back to her, or he wouldn’t. They would be a family or they wouldn’t. This would all work out or it wouldn’t. But there would be a Benjamin or a Lauren. She and her Benjamin or her Lauren … they’d be OK.

The valet brought Ashley her car and she got in and drove away.

As she pulled out onto PCH, “Hungry Heart” started playing through her speakers and Ashley felt just the tiniest bit of hope. Your whole world can be falling apart, she thought, but then Springsteen will start playing on the radio.

• • •

Ricky Esposito was back hanging out near the food, eating plain crackers since the cheese plate was gone. He was trying to decide if he should just leave. He’d struck out with the girl of his dreams and he wasn’t yet in the mood to set his sights on another.