She did. She stood up. She said, "Okay. The friend who I absolutely destroyed last year has been waiting for this moment for twelve months. I want you all to know I have been dreading it. She gets to roast me. Please be kind to me, babe." She winked at me. The table laughed. I stood up. I had rehearsed the exact moment. I raised my glass. I said, "Laney. Where do I begin. I have known this woman for eleven years. She is confident, she is loud, she is the person you call when everything is falling apart." I talked, for the first three minutes, about our friendship in exactly the way she wanted me to. I made fun of her shopping addiction. I told a funny story about her getting lost in Vegas. I said nice things about Brandon, who was sitting next to her — nice things that made him look visibly pleased. And then, at the three-minute mark, I turned. I said, "One of the things I love most about Laney is her commitment to honesty. Laney cannot stand a secret. Last year, she used my birthday to share a secret of mine with forty people. She told them something I had asked her to keep in confidence. She did it because she believes, as she has told me many times, that hiding things is corrosive. And I respect that. So tonight, as her tribute, I am going to return the gift she gave me."