Nothing. It means nothing. I may have been desperately crushing on Jude, but that doesn’t mean Miles was crushing on Bree/me. He was just doing his job.

My phone lights up with Mary’s picture. Dazed and out of it, I pick up. “Hello?”

“Did you get my belated birthday present? I dropped it off this morning.”

That must have been when Miles ran into her.

I guess I don’t respond quickly enough because she adds, “Check the coffee table.”

An envelope sits there, inside of which is a gift certificate for two massages at a chic hotel spa in Brooklyn. Her play with my margin notes has vanished. Maybe she chucked it in the trash. Maybe she shredded it. Clearly, it was too embarrassing to continue existing in the world.

“It includes a one-night stay,” she explains.

“Thank you,” I stammer. As usual, Mary is outrageously generous. Perhaps it’s her way of softening the blow that she thinks I’m a hack?

A massage sounds glorious, but there’s no way I’m traveling to another borough. The only reason I made it to dinner with my parents was because Miles literally held my hand.

“Don’t thank me yet. There’s an addendum to the gift, and it’s time sensitive,” Mary says ominously.

“What do you mean?”

“As promised, medicine for your anxiety is on its way, arriving any minute now.”

For the second time in twenty minutes my hand goes slippery and the phone nearly tumbles to the floor. I clutch it and whisper, “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did. It’ll be delivered to Hotel The with your name on it within the hour. It’s en route from Geoffrey’s as we speak.”

“No, no, no,” I moan. “What if a sniffer dog finds it?”

“Do you know a lot of five-star hotels that employ sniffer dogs? You’re going to want to be there before the staff gets their hands on it, I’d imagine.”

“You know it’s illegal here, don’t you?” I groan.

“For now. They’re inching their way toward legality. Maybe by the time you arrive, the law will have changed!”

“Not helping. Why would you do this?”

“I figured you might need an incentive to get across town. Looks like I was right,” she adds brightly.

“You couldn’t have sent me fresh avocados? Because I miss those, too!”

“Fresh avocados don’t reduce stress or lower your inhibitions.”

“This is adding to my stress. Exponentially! How am I supposed to get to Brooklyn?” I pace in a loop around the couch, my breath speeding up. “I don’t even know which subway lines to take.”

“You could always ask that winsome neighbor of yours to escort you.”

“Miles-High Hair?”

“Oooh, you’re at nickname status? Nice.” She makes some type of satisfied clucking sound.

“Asking him for help would be haphazard as fuck.”