“I’m so what?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not even sure there’s a word for it.”

“That’s fine,” she said casually. “I don’t feel the need to be described by pre-existing words in a dictionary. It’s kind of basic.”

“That’s not a bad way of looking at it.” It was getting even harder for Jake to put Mira in a category. Maybe that was a good thing.

“Ooh . . .” she said, her focus suddenly shifting.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the server carrying a tray with two glasses of cider.

She looked from the glasses to Jake. “Are you sure you’re not too hungover for this?”

“Are you kidding? It’s just what I need.” Maybe it wasn’t, but if he was still a little drunk, it was better to keep on drinking.

They raised their glasses in the air.

“Cheers to a really messed-up day,” she declared.

“There’s nowhere to go but up.”

They clinked their glasses before each taking a glug. And he had to admit, it was pretty good.

Jake realized this was his first official time drinking cider that was made on location in a restaurant in Paris. To his surprise, he really liked the idea of having done that. And he really liked how comfortable he felt around Mira. What he couldn’t figure out was why they weren’t already friends.

He set down his glass and studied her. “What’s your deal, then?” She looked at him strangely. “I mean we’ve worked at the same place for what, two years now?”

“I’ve been there for three, but I guess we’ve shared an office for that time.”

“Then how come I’d never even spoken to you until today?”

“Technically it was last night,” she said. “When I was repeatedly annoyed with you.”

Maybe his memory of the night before had been right after all. “You were very sarcastic, but that’s not what I mean. What about before? How come you’ve never been to the company parties?”

“You mean the parties hosted by the sales team? Like the one in March where an ambulance was called?” She shook her head disapprovingly.

“That was a total false alarm!”

The raw and unfiltered story was that Jake’s coworker Pete had ended up getting his stomach pumped, but it wasn’t exactly a detail he felt he needed to share. Still, as he thought about the shit show that had led to calling 911, he was starting to see it from her point of view.

Mira rotated her glass of cider on the table’s surface, clearly done with the party talk.

“Last August,” he blurted out, as the memory took shape. “The company barbecue at that hotel rooftop in Brooklyn. You were there that time.”

“Oh, was I?”

“I distinctly remember chatting in a circle with Frank, a couple of sales guys, that dipshit from finance, and you.” He frowned. “You ignored me the whole time.”

She scoffed. “I don’t remember that at all.”