I could combat my love for Atlas another day, in private. In public, at least, I could pretend that Ari’s presence didn’t bother me. I envisioned bringing up the subject of Atlas myself, as though to say, Oh, I see your superior claims on him, and raise you one tone of nonchalance.

I’d reread his texts many times since Charleston, though I wasn’t sure why. I knew the lines by heart but still had no answer for him.

It was possible that Atlas had told her about his discovery; they were sharing a bed, after all. I didn’t know what they talked about on their pillows, but if it were about me, I would be mortified.

“I love this place,” Ari said when she arrived at the stall’s counter. She wore a beautiful cream coat that tied in the front like a bathrobe. She hugged me—squeezed me, rather—with an enthusiasm I wasn’t ready for. The perfect swoop of her ponytail reminded me of cursive letters, of signatures. “I haven’t been here since I left DC. It makes me think of Borough Market.”

Union Market was as trendy now as it had been when it opened a handful of years ago. The neighborhood had formerly been known only for its industrial warehouses, but was now dense with cranes and newer structures that advertised themselves as “mixed use.” If you build it, they will come. They weren’t wrong. From the outside, Union Market’s once scruffy exterior had been buffed, so it looked less like a run-down terminal and more like a big, modern food hall. Inside, it was full of colorful stalls selling microgreens, oysters, and tea towels. The butcher would let you taste the difference between soppressata and chorizo before buying. One could purchase a cactus in a pot. Sepia-toned pictures of the original purveyors hung on the interior walls. In the summer, there were beer festivals and crawfish boils. You can easily imagine the lines for the smoked fish counter during the holidays.

“This is so nice, Daisy,” Ari said after we’d located an unoccupied table next to the glass garage doors that would be raised soon when the weather was warm enough. “I’m so happy we could get together and catch up.” We clinked takeaway cups of chai. “It’s incredibly painful trying to make new friends as an adult.”

I cleared my throat, preparing to do what was needed to land on her good side. “Yes. And, you know, I feel a little weird about when I ran into you the other week. I was so shocked to see you. I feel like I might’ve come across as cold. I didn’t mean to be.”