I give it an obligatory peek. “I’m all for quitting teaching and pursuing what you love, but even I know restaurants are a terrible investment. You might want to work in one first before you think about opening one.”

She elbows me in the gut. “Not for me, asshole. For you.” She yanks me closer, practically pushing my face up to the smudged glass. “This would be a great spot for the first Bridge and Blooms shop.”

I pull her away from the window. “Yeah, I definitely am not big enough to be able to afford whatever astronomical rent they’re asking.” Tucking my arm back into hers, I drag her away from the building and toward home.

Home. It still tickles me, bringing an automatic smile to my face when I think of the brownstone as home. When I think of Jack as home.

But Gemma doesn’t let the subject drop. “You at least have to check it out. It could be way more affordable than you think. And who knows, maybe you could get investors. Look how much business has grown in just a few months.”

I brush off her suggestion because on the surface it sounds crazy. I can’t afford Brooklyn rent. And to turn an empty space into a shop takes money and employees and licenses and permits and all kinds of things I don’t want to think about. “I just want to arrange flowers, Gem. And I’ve got the perfect setup in my very own home. Why would I want to spend all that money opening up a shop when I have this gorgeous studio space right upstairs?”

We reach my front stoop, and Gemma stops at the bottom stair. “This would be all yours, Sade.”

She doesn’t say it, but the implication is there. What I have now isn’t all mine. My studio is Jack’s. And so much of my success is due to the incredible rent deal, also provided to me by Jack. And while I certainly don’t plan on driving a wedge between us anytime soon, the facts support its happening at some point. Almost undoubtedly because of me. And where will my business be then?

“Fine. I’ll think about it.” I gesture to the front door. “You wanna come in?”

“Go from one happy couple to the other? No thanks.” She slips her phone from her purse, calling for a Lyft.

“I’ll wait with you.” I toss my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to me for warmth. And because I know she needs a hug but would never dream of asking for one. “Whatever you decide to do, you know we’ll all be here for you. And Jack or no Jack, you’re my number one. I’ve always got your back.”

“So much same.” Her car pulls up, and we wrap each other in a final hug. “Love you.”