“So,” I said, leaning across the couch to give his arm a gentle punch, “how’s your girlfriend?” The second this question left my mouth, I flinched, realizing just how jumpy and awkward I was being. Asking him something so personal before I’d even offered him a drink! And some light boxing thrown in for good measure? Cricket would be horrified. “I’m so sorry I haven’t asked about Ariel in a while,” I said, reclining again, trying to be casual, trying to recover.

“It’s...complicated,” he said, and my heart jolted. “She’s not leaving London anytime soon, and I’m feeling like I need to be in DC for a while. I’m not sure if we’re going to do long-distance. We’re still figuring it out.”

“I’ve been a lousy friend.” Was I glad he was single? Yes. Did I want to see him go through a breakup? No. This was a strange spot to rest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” His eyes met mine. He was smiling, but it wasn’t all there. “I want to talk about you.”

I’d put on jeans, a real sweater, which I, in fact, now regretted, as I’d started to sweat and wool wasn’t breathable. I had to look away from his tidal basin eyes to collect myself. “Those websites that have our pictures,” I said, “never publish the flattering ones. Wallis is always beautiful, but they always seem to catch me with a double chin. It’s not fair. Still accurate enough to be recognized, though.”

“This may sound odd,” Atlas said. “But I’m glad Wallis is here with you. I think this all would’ve been harder for you had she still been in South Korea.”

“I wanted her first months home to be nice. I made reservations. I got tickets. She’s been away three years and she comes home to this?”

“Three years away?” Atlas said. “I thought it was two.”

“Three,” I said, recalling the slow minutes of her years on the other side of the world. “She left shortly after her college graduation.”

“I’m really quite a failure at keeping track of time.”

“That pocket planner I got you,” I said, “like, five Christmases ago. Tell me the truth. Did you ever use it?”

“No, but not because I didn’t love it,” he said quickly. “Really, I did try to be that kind of a person. The scheduled person. Like you! With your day planner. It just didn’t stick.”

“So I’m also a failure then,” I said, “at giving good gifts.”

“Hopelessly deficient,” Atlas said, teasing.

“Trade me in for a new model,” I said, and chuckled to myself. “My father always used to say that.”

“So, how are you then?” Atlas asked. “Really. Tell me.”

The way he said this did not sound like an order, but an offering. “We sold P Street,” I began.