“It’s not that we think it’s dumb, we just haven’t heard you talk about being a florist since like sophomore year. I think we all kind of figured you’d let that go by now.” Gemma pats my arm somewhat awkwardly in her attempt to bestow comfort upon me.

Shrugging, I sit back in my seat, removing myself from the physical-touch range. “I kind of did. Didn’t seem like it was the kind of plan that was ever going to come to fruition, so I put it aside. But now I could actually make it work, and with the whole no-job situation, it just kind of feels like a sign, you know? Like if ever there were a time, this is it.” I chance a quick glance at them, and they’re both smiling at me like proud parents at their toddler’s first dance recital, and proud parents are such a foreign experience for me it reignites the tiniest of hopeful flames in my chest.

“This is the perfect time, and I definitely think you should go for it.” Harley hands me her pen. “First things first.”

I take the pen and sign the lease agreement before I can second-guess myself. “So what are the chances Jack’s an actual serial killer?”

“Fifty-fifty,” Gemma guesses.

“Eighty-twenty in favor of him not trying to murder you in your sleep.” Harley takes her pen back and tucks it into her purse. “I think he seems like a genuinely nice guy.”

“And we’re totally going to be barging our way into that kitchen all the damn time, so hopefully he can hang with us.” Gemma loves to cook, but the kitchen in the apartment she and Harley share is the size of a coat closet.

Harley’s phone trills, and Nick’s face pops up on her screen. She holds it up so he can see all of us.

“Did I read my texts right? My last Manhattan friend is abandoning me?” Nick is at his parents’ house in the Hamptons for the weekend, because yes, he’s exactly as stereotypical as he seems on paper. He’s out in the massive backyard, the pool behind him and a glass of rosé in his hand.

“I can’t even look at you right now, you’re so cliché.” I take Harley’s phone from her. “I’m going to need you to make the trip out at least once to make sure this guy knows he can’t mess with me.”

“Wait, you’re moving in with a guy?” Nick’s definitely plucked eyebrows meet his perfect hairline.

“And she’s opening her own business,” Gemma chimes in, taking the phone from me.

“What the fuck? Are you finally doing the flower thing? Do I need to get on the jitney and come home?”