Her voice is louder than I thought it could even go, and the two guys coming out of the building across the street look at us. They share a quick raise of the eyebrow, probably imagining some juicy Jerry Springer drama.

If only. This is just the great disappointment of my existence rolling downhill and collecting moss along the way.

“My mom worked hard for her job, Henri! She’s the first Black woman to have that job—ever!”

“I’m so sorry, Corinne. I never wanted this to blow back on your mom. I just—”

“Oh, we’re back to you!”

“N-no! I just . . .” I look down. “I just wanted it so badly, Corinne.”

“I don’t care, Henri! God!” Corinne exclaims, now furious. “I categorically do not care about how this affects you right now! My mom trusted you in our home, and now she has this, this nonsense red mark in her file about being a liability because her daughter’s boyfriend hacked her email account? Do you know how humiliating that is?”

Corinne shakes her head at me. She lifts Palm Tree up and bundles his leash under him. “You know, all the magazines said the same thing about, whatever, starting relationships. How is important. Meet-cutes, being set up by friends that know you well, finding the right dating app . . .”

I blink, unsure where she’s going with this.

She sighs, sounding more sad than angry. “Our meet-cute was blackmail, Henri. I blackmailed you into hanging out with me. What did I expect?” She pauses. “Did you know about my mom’s job all along? Is that why you . . .” She waves her arm in the space between us to cover something she can’t put into words right now. “This?”

“No! No.”

“You know . . .” She laughs sadly, ignoring me. “Right after the moment my mom told me what happened and I saw you come down the street, my first thought was: that explains it. That explains all of it. He didn’t want to sleep with me because he felt guilty.” She stops and inhales sharply, suddenly looking angrier. “Actually, maybe even that would be giving you too much credit. Now I wonder if it’s because you never had any feelings for me at all. And I was just part of this gross con. Was all of this just to get my mom’s recommendation, Henri? You’d date her weird, loner daughter and she’d be so grateful, she’d stake her career to get you into your dream school?!”

“No, no, Corinne—that’s not it.” I want to be offended. I want to say I would never con someone into trusting me, into liking me. But I do that, don’t I? That’s what I do all the time.

“I fell for you, Corinne. For real. You’ve got to believe me.” I look her in the eyes. “I love you.”