“You two really are bloody perfect for each other.”

I didn’t say anything and instead looked out at the path in front of us. Max was right; Will and I were perfect together. At least it felt that way, and I’d never been happier in my entire life than I had in the time we’d been together. But my career was important to me, too, and if anyone was going to understand that, I thought it would be him. The lab was important to me. My research was important to me. But so was he.

Why couldn’t I have both?

“So how are the interviews going, anyway?” Max asked, snagging my attention back into the conversation. We were nearing Columbus Circle again, and the number of people on the trails and in the park had definitely picked up.

“Good,” I told him. “I leave Wednesday for Berkeley.”

“Great campus.”

“You’ve been there?”

He nodded. “I have a few clients that live up that way. It’s gorgeous, so I try to stay an extra night or two when I can—not so much these days,” he added, smiling fondly down at the stroller.

“I’ve only been a few times on family trips. It could be nice,” I said.

“So, not your first choice, then?”

“I don’t really have one yet, to be honest.” The sound of a siren burst through the air a few blocks away, growing louder as it neared the park before fading off into the distance. Once it quieted, I glanced at Max and shrugged, adding, “Think I’m just trying to get through the interviews first. And trying to imagine where Will might want to live.”

“Trust me, your husband thinks you hung the fucking stars. You could tell him you’d chosen a school in Antarctica and he’d ask if you were ready to start packing.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “I mean, I know he loves me, of course, but the rest... picking where we live? It’s so huge.”

“Well, before all this happened—Will, the wedding—where did you see yourself?”

I blew out a puff of air, watching a small cloud of condensation form in front of my lips. What did I want before Will? I’d had a plan—I always had a plan—but the days before Will were a little hard to recall. I could see them, but they felt dusty and distorted somehow, dull.

“I never really set my sights on one particular school,” I told him. “I’ve always liked Harvard? Caltech, maybe?”

“Back home,” he said, and hummed thoughtfully, brows drawn together while he considered it. “Harvard could definitely be interesting. Imagine how often I could remind Will of that time he tried to get a leg over in your parents’ house.”

I nearly choked at the word tried.