“I’d love that,” she said. “Honey, I wanted to see if you had time to help plan Ruby’s baby sprinkle. I’m hosting it, but you know I don’t know the first thing about decorating. I thought maybe you could send me some ideas, make one of those Pinterest things of what I should buy. And then come help me set up at the house. It’s on a Sunday.”

“A sprinkle?” I asked. It sounded like some sort of sex-fetish party.

“Yes, you know, it’s like a baby shower, but for the second kid. A sprinkle.”

I rolled my eyes. The last thing I had time for was putting together a mood board for a baby shower, much less taking the train out to their house for a day spent dragging plastic tables around. But she was my mom, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that letting her down would be worse than saying yes.

“Okay, yeah. Sure,” I said. Saying yes felt like a good way to reset the cosmic balance of me not yet telling her about Anna’s existence.

A text interrupted us, and I glanced at my phone to see what it was. I’m officially in a committed relationship! wrote Lola, followed by a row of shocked-face emojis.

“Mom, that’s a work thing I gotta go answer,” I lied. So much for cosmic balance, I guess.

“Okay, sweetie. Bye.”

Phew. That was easy. Back to Lola. I sent off a row of bright-red exclamation-point emojis. For anyone else, a committed relationship might not have been a big deal. But this was Lola, who had always leaned into her reputation as someone who never settled down, who preferred ending things before they got serious, who couldn’t stand the feeling of being tied down. For her, proudly declaring herself off the market meant something.

Big deal! Cleo responded seconds later. Who knew Fran bumping into a hot weirdo on the subway would get YOU a girlfriend LOL

Without even thinking, I typed out He’s not a weirdo and then let my finger hover over the little blue arrow that would deliver the message to my friends. I tended to avoid conflict; I’d always rather steady the boat than rock it. But something about the phrase “hot weirdo” got under my skin. I mean, sure, he was a little awkward. And, yeah, he wore a tie like 95 percent of the time and refused to eat sugar. But the Hayes I’d gotten to know was also kind and witty, quiet and thoughtful. I liked those things, and I liked them enough to finally hit SEND, conflict be damned.

*  *  *