“I made that up.” My entire body sagged, both from exhaustion and from the relief of finally being completely honest. “They were talking about how successful you were, and I just…I don’t know, I just blurted out that I was successful too. I was too embarrassed to tell you I’d fudged all of it.”

“So your work—”

“I’m not overflowing with clients, no. You and Eleanor have literally been my only client so far. I’m still trying to build my business, make connections, get whatever jobs I can. It’s why I told Serena I’d be available to work with her.” My voice broke on her name, and he looked confused. He wasn’t the only one. “This is why I should have never kissed you!”

Hayes said nothing. Instead, he walked over to a bench where there were two coffee cups, picked one up and popped the plastic lid flap open, chugging back a huge sip. Putting it back down, he turned to look at me. “I didn’t know if you’d want decaf or regular, so I got both,” he said, gesturing to the cups. I hated him for being kind right now.

“I don’t know what I did to make you think you couldn’t tell me the truth,” he said finally. “But if that’s what you want, fine. The most important thing is for you to be with your mom.”

I pressed my lips together, feeling hot and defiant.

“And you’re right.” He gave me a long, hard stare. “We’re nothing alike. I should have known that all along.”

“Thank you for everything today,” I said, wobbling a bit. My entire body felt numb. “I owe you one.”

A flicker of recognition registered on his face. I thought he might share, but instead he leaned over me and planted a kiss on the top of my head.

“Someday, Franny,” he said, his mouth lingering, “I’m going to take you up on that.”

He stood there for a moment, a pause that felt endless, and I almost expected him to take off his jacket and drape it over my shoulders, just as he did when we first met. But instead he turned without looking at me, digging his hands into his pockets as he left, lit up by the parking lot lights.

*  *  *

I had just woken up when a giant delivery of bagels from Zabar’s arrived at my parents’ house. I tore into the package like an animal. I had barely eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, and suddenly it felt like everything that had gone wrong in my life could be fixed by a bagel, cream cheese, and lox. I ripped open the card. “Food = love,” it read. “xx, Lola and Perrine.”

Whoa. I knew Lola and Perrine were exclusive, serious even, but they were now at the send-a-sympathy-food-basket level of dating? I texted Cleo immediately.