"No one is fine around you!" he says, fulfilling this episode's quota, and he explains that, since he's not going to Europe, he'll move into Esteban's house with the rest of them -- which, you remember, Esteban offered months ago, even including Andy in the deal -- to make sure the boys don't get lost in the shuffle. He's really done a good job turning into himself. Achieving a life, as it were.

"This beer's warm! Someone get me another!" Shane shouts from the pool, relapsing into Season One Lupita abuse: "Where's the fucking staff? I have thirst!" Nancy tells him he's cut off, and Silas demands that Esteban promise to protect them all, quite seriously. He's impressed; Silas less so. "So. I'll move my shit in, the two of you can stop dicking around and get married, and on we'll go: one big happy." Nancy smiles, because her idea of happiness is so approximate and cargo-cultish that this actually sounds like a nice idea. "Get in the pool, fags!" screams Shane from the pool, floating by blissed out, and Esteban laughs against her shoulder. He always wanted boys.

Nancy is putting on her lipstick, but has not yet donned The Shrug That Lives, when Andy arrives with his wedding gift: Stevie's paternity paperwork, transferring fatherhood to Esteban. Nancy tells him she registered at Williams-Sonoma ("we could use a new tortilla warmer"), and he almost smiles. She asks if he's sure, and whether he has a plan. He does. A good one: Go back to the house, spread out his life like a map, deliberate on the topography, chart his path. "Maybe call a girl who calls me on my shit," he says, making Nancy smile. She is proud, and scared.

Not only of his absence, but also of his plan itself: this is the day he becomes a man, he's saying. No more addiction, chopping up days into moments and relapses. Actually finding the map, the road, and walking down it. This pendejo who sticks around, maybe he just outgrew her. Maybe next time she leaps he won't catch her, and she can't hedge her bets with Esteban anymore. Maybe she's really getting married after all.

"You love him," Andy says. "You're going down a road." She nods. This much is true. He kisses her cheek. It's more of a blessing than the Shema was. "I think I'm happy for you," she says tearfully, and he reciprocates. It's the only way their goodbye could have gone. "See you downstairs?" she asks, but she already knows the answer. He's gone, with a smile and a firm shake of the head. She smiles at herself in the mirror, shuddering with one sad breath before she moves past it.