Dani: But how do I find them? How do I find one? I only need one. But I need him to be not gross.

Max: That part might be harder. Also, it’s Christmas Eve.

Dani: People can’t have sex on Christmas Eve?

Max: No, but aren’t you supposed to be making those Mexican dessert things and packing up your cheater fruitcake and so on?

Dani: Are you trying to talk me out of getting on Tinder?

Max: Good lord, no. I would never do that.

Dani: What are you doing right now?

Max: I’m at the palace for Christmas. I was having a late lunch with my parents and brother, but I excused myself to take a very important phone call.

Dani: Okay, well, I’ll let you go.

Max: Please don’t. Then I’ll have to go back to tortellini and torture.

She paused. If he didn’t have any advice for her regarding apps suitable for commoners, why would they keep texting? She couldn’t help but be curious about his use of the term torture, though. It didn’t sound like he had the best relationship with his family. Her fingers, poised over her phone, twitched. Damn it, she was going to do it.

Dani: Lunch with just your family?

Max: Yes. We spend Christmas at the palace, but my father always insists on a family Christmas Eve lunch, and they give us a private room. Which I very much do not want to return to.

Dani: Okay, tell me about one time you used your rich-person app successfully. Maybe I can translate your technique into a proletariat app.

Her phone rang. He was calling her. She shouldn’t have gone along with the chatty texting-for-no-reason thing. “Hello?”

“I would never tell you not to get on Tinder or any other app, but please be careful.”

His voice was a shock, which made no sense. She had heard a great deal of it not two weeks ago. But over the phone it felt more intimate somehow, which also made no sense. There was an ocean between them. “What do you mean?”

“Do all the things you’re supposed to do. Tell someone where you are and send them the man’s name and photo. Meet in public—all those precautions.”

“That seems like a lot of work in order to have sex.”

“Just text someone the details. Text me the details.”

“Text you, halfway across the world when it’s the middle of the night your time, the details about the hookup I’m about to have?”

“Yes. I don’t sleep that much anyway, and I’m profoundly nonjudgmental. Send me his picture and the address where you are and check in when you’re done. I promise I won’t be a jerk about it.”