Ariel had been just a picture on my internet browser, a headshot I could inspect, but now here she was standing before me. The memory of Atlas’s mouth on mine fluttered inside me, soft but persistent. Somehow, I stammered, “Yes. I am thoroughly shocked.”

“I just landed last week,” she said, clearly pleased. “And this is really my first night out on the town. And here you are. It’s fate.” The line toward the bar inched forward. “I have been asking Atlas for your phone number. I was hoping he could set us up on a friend date. After three years away, I don’t have many friends left in the city.”

“So,” I said, trying to get my wits about me, “you’re back to visit?”

“I’ve moved back for good,” she said, blunt, smiling.

“Right,” I said. “Totally.” I looked for a lifeline. Around me were only the faces of strangers.

“Long-distance relationships are impossible. And transatlantic long distance for that matter. But this job appeared, and so I called him and asked if he was really committed to making us work. I mean, if he had met someone in the meantime here in DC, that would’ve affected my decision to move. I think I would’ve stayed in England.”

My breath shortened and my fingers had started to tingle, but I didn’t feel in immediate danger of a panic attack. I considered running away, changing my number. Anything to survive being stuck with her for the remainder of this line. “That’s perfect.”

“It is!” she said. Her lips curled upward. “As soon as I began the conversation about the possibility of me moving back, it was like the floodgates opened for him. He confessed that he was really lonely here. He even said that he’d been jealous thinking of me being single in London. Is it bad that I loved hearing that?”

In the wake of this question, for which I had no answer, I wondered if Atlas had confessed to my kiss. Ari’s face was still perfectly composed, but I had to suspect that this was the type of statement meant to quash any claims I might have over him. “Atlas is”—I spoke like a child, reading a sentence aloud for the first time—“great.”

Would the bartender judge me if I ordered a tequila sunrise? I remember it tasting pretty decent in college.

Ari cocked her head, evaluated me. “What do you want?” she asked.

What did I want? Hmm. For my life to have meaning? For my sister and my mother to be happy and settled? For the air inside my lungs to feel like it was air, again, instead of salt water? And if I’m really being greedy, Atlas.