Annoyed all over again, I walked to the dresser, pulling out clothes and slipping into them as quietly as I could manage. I found my shoes under the bed, and my phone, keys, and ID littered around the apartment and strewn throughout the remnants of last night’s debauchery. I slipped them all into the zippered pocket of my jacket, walked back into the room, and shut off his alarm clock.

I was going for a run; Will could stay home.

Just like before that first run with Will more than a year ago—if you can call what I did that day running—I paced back and forth, waiting. Over the year we’d adjusted our route, starting at different points to hit the hills at the beginning of the run on some days, the end on others. Instead of the Engineers Gate at Fifth and Ninetieth, I walked back and forth on the edge of the trail near Columbus Circle.

I’m a natural pacer. I did it at home whenever I was stressed about something, and was almost positive I’d worn a path that stretched from the front door of the lab to the opposite wall. When I was little my dad used to say he was going to hook me up to the lawn mower so at least that way he’d get the grass cut, instead of the kitchen rug being trampled to death.

Knowing it was possible he’d already be up with Annabel, I’d texted Max as soon as I left the apartment. Thankfully, he was, and had no problem starting our run a little earlier. Though “little” might have been an understatement.

It was still mostly dark out—especially here, in the park—the sky smoky and plum colored, the edges glowing brighter and brighter as the sun slowly rose behind the trees.

I loved it here this time of morning, when the air was still cool and crisp and there were hardly any people to navigate, nothing to do but shut off my brain and move my body. Will and I had jogged these trails almost every day since that first morning, and were joined by Max and Annabel soon after the little girl was born. He claimed she slept soundly on days when he took her out for a jog, but we all knew better. Max loved these moments with his daughter and Sara loved the baby-free time she got in the morning.

Today, I heard the wheels of the stroller before I saw Max headed toward me.

“Morning, Mrs. Sumner-Bergstrom,” he said, stopping in front of me. And despite my current annoyance with Will, my stomach did a little flip at the sound of my married name.

“Morning.” My cheeks warmed as I shifted blankets around and bent to kiss the adorable baby strapped into the elaborate running stroller. “And good morning to you, Miss Anna. How is the prettiest girl in New York? How is she?”