She shrugged. “I haven’t heard from her, but she’s been entertaining twenty very loud women all day. She probably went to bed immediately after.”

“Hey, what time is it?” I asked her, leaning forward to tap on her watch.

“Almost six. Wow.” She raised her eyebrows at me. We were now going on almost forty-eight hours together, and we had been dancing around some things the entire time: How was this weekend going to end? And when? And, most importantly, what did all of this mean?

I stood and stretched, bending at the waist until my hands touched my feet, decked in a thick pair of Knicks-themed socks Franny had tossed at me this morning.

“So I should probably head back to my apartment,” I started, even though I didn’t want our time together to end. “I have an entire inbox and a client report I’ve been putting off since dinner on Friday, and I have to read up on the candidates I’m interviewing this week. And I have to pack.”

“Well, that won’t be hard for you,” she said, pulling on my earlobe with a smile. “Just pack all your suits.”

“Rude,” I teased, poking her in the ribs as she squealed.

“What if…” I hesitated and then made myself ask. “What if you came back to my place tonight? Bring your laptop, some clothes. We can order in and do some work together.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I began to doubt myself, but she smiled. “Okay,” she said with a nod, gathering the paper on the floor. “I just need a few minutes to get organized.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Just so I’m clear,” she said as she stood up, “you’re enjoying this weekend as much as I am?”

Her words extinguished all the nerves I’d just battled. I rose to meet her, and my hands grazed her jaw, toying with the hair that fell at her ears. “More,” I promised, leaning in for another kiss. “Seriously.”

We locked eyes, and I could tell she was searching to confirm that I was being honest. Satisfied, she smiled and ducked out of my hands. “Let me just get my stuff together.”

I busied myself by tidying up our breakfast spread, walking dishes to the sink, recycling the newspaper, rinsing out coffee cups. I smiled as I worked, marveling at how strange the events of the past few months had been. I’d always thought the idea of fate, of the universe, of the magic of life, to be utter bullshit. But here I was, washing the lip gloss off a mug that belonged to the stranger who barreled onto my subway car one day. Life might not be magic, but it sure was something.

“Wait, say that again?” Franny’s voice pierced through my thoughts, the pitch a bit higher than normal. Urgent. “Slow down. I can’t understand you.”