“As far as Told You Sos go, this is an excellent one,” Mara says.

“Right? That’s what I thought!”

“Hang on,” Sadie interjects. “Did we know that he was the one who vetoed your proposal? And did we know about the fooling-around-five-years-ago bit? Did we forget?”

“We did not,” Mara says. “We would not have forgotten. Thank you for keeping us updated on your life, Hannah.”

“Would you have cared to know?”

Their Hell, yeahs are simultaneous.

Right. Of course. “Okay, let’s see. We kind of made out at JPL. Then he asked me out for dinner. I said that I didn’t date, but I’d fuck him anyway. He wasn’t interested, and we went our separate ways.” I shrug. “Now you know.”

Mara glares at me. “Wow. So timely.”

I blow her a kiss.

“But things have changed, right?” Sadie asks. “I mean . . . last night he carried you upstairs for seven floors because the elevator was broken. It’s obvious that he has a thing for you.”

“Yes,” Mara agrees. “Are you going to break my blood relative’s heart? Don’t get me wrong, I’d still side with you. Hos before bros.”

“He’s not your bro in any sense of the word,” I point out.

“Hey, he’s my cousin-or-something.”

Sadie pats her on the shoulder. “It’s the or something that gets me every time. You can really feel the unbreakable family ties.”

“We seceded last night. We’re the founders of the Floyds 2.0. And you”—she points at me—“could be one of us.”

“Could I?”

“Yes. If you gave Ian a chance.”

“I . . . I don’t know.” I think about how he squeezed my hand while the plane landed. About the way he asked for cookies instead of pretzels, because I told him that they’re my favorite. About his arm around my shoulders back in Norway while the concierge checked us into our rooms. About him falling asleep next to me, and me realizing how taxing, how physically demanding, it must have been to come extract me from the idiotic situation I put myself into—no matter that he didn’t so much as roll his eyes at the burden of it.

I don’t like the word dating. I don’t like the idea of it. But with Ian . . . I don’t know. It seems different with him.

“I guess we’ll see. I’m not sure he would want to date,” I say, staring at Sadie’s Froot Loops. The ensuing silence drags on so long, I’m forced to look up. She and Mara are staring at me like I just announced that I’m quitting my job to take up macramé full-time. “What?”

“Did she really just use the word date?” Mara asks Sadie, pretending I’m not sitting right here.

“I think so. And without referring to the disgusting fruit?”

Mara frowns. “Dude, dates are amazing.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Yes. Try wrapping them in bacon.”

“Okay,” Sadie acknowledges, “anything is amazing if you wrap it in bacon, but—”

I clear my throat. They turn to me.