“Yeah,” I say softly. Though I didn’t know it until now. “Yeah.”

I close my eyes. This hurts. I don’t want to break up with Ryan. I really don’t want to break up with Ryan. But I have to. I have to do it now, even as the rest of my life is already imploding. Because while Ryan is still all of the ninety-nine things I thought I wanted, it turns out that isn’t enough.

And though he’d never admit to having a list of his own, I’m not the woman he wants to spend his life with, either. More important, I don’t want to become her.

“You deserve—” I start to say.

“Don’t tell me what I deserve,” he snaps. “I know what I deserve. I also know you’re going to regret this. Because you’re never going to find someone who will take care of you the way I can take care of you, who will give you the life I would have. And by the time you realize that, it’s going to be too late.”

“I realize it already, Ryan. It’s already too late.”

He stares at me as if we’ve never met before, which is what it feels like to break up with the person you thought you’d love forever.

“Well,” he says. “I guess this is goodbye.”

He turns and starts down the block. Steam from a subway grate rises up and obscures him from me even further.

I did this, and I can’t believe it’s happening. I can’t believe how fast Ryan is walking away. For much of my life, I’ve wanted to be a Noa Callaway heroine; I’ve wanted to fall in love with a Noa Callaway hero. I thought I had found him in Ryan. And now, the only thing I know for sure is I was wrong.

I think of my engagement ring, finally resized and ready for me to pick up at the jewelers. What do I do with it now?

“Wait,” I call out, chasing after him. “What about—”

He waves me off, still walking away. “You’ll figure it out, Lanie,” he calls over his shoulder. “Or you won’t. It’s not my problem anymore.” He turns and gives me a crushing look. “That’s the beauty of breaking up. One less problem.”

Chapter Ten

The diamond ring sits in its open clamshell box in the center of the outdoor table, looking radioactive.

Late last night, when it became clear that my breakup with Ryan was not an oyster-induced hallucination, I’d texted Meg and Rufus:

Maison Pickle. 11 a.m. Emergency Brunch.