It was already nine in the evening when the delivery finally arrived. The coffee table was now crowded with pizza boxes, shawarma wraps, and two bottles of wine—because according to Casey, “You only have one problem, but there are two of us drinking, so obviously we need two bottles. Duh. I refuse to let you experience only half the drunkenness tonight.”

I was curled up on the couch, wearing one of Casey’s oversized T-shirts and a pair of her shorts. My hair still smelled faintly of ...