A fresh burst of pain hits my chest, and for a split second, it’s hard for me to breathe. If James and I fought a lot or if there was any noticeable tension between us, I might have been less blindsided. But besides a couple of minor disagreements here and there, which we quickly resolved with a joke or a laugh, I can’t remember if we ever actually fought. Maybe that had been our problem, in the end. After all, some conflict is healthy. But I never thought that deeply about James’s and my lack of conflict until the sudden death of our relationship.

I need a distraction. Fast. Hoping they won’t notice the tears forming in the corners of my eyes, I steer my friends toward the line for food.

“I’m starving,” I say. “Let’s go eat. Can we talk about something other than James?”

Kiara’s face pinches, like she can tell I’m not okay but she’s trying her best not to say anything.

“Yup, sure thing,” she says as we get in line. “Have you heard from Evelyn about the new project we’re doing for Valentine’s Day yet? The ‘Modern Love in Focus’ one? The freelance photographer they hired is so hot! I heard you’re attached to conduct the interviews and write the text.”

I’m always so deeply buried in emails on Mondays that I’m not surprised I haven’t even heard of this project yet. But it sounds like the kind of ambitious work that Evelyn, our executive editor, would sign me up for. She’s always been pushing me to do bigger and better things every year, even though I’m mostly content just writing local lifestyle stories and contributing to Dear Karl, Horizon’s romantic advice column that’s named after the San Francisco fog.

Information about the project is probably in my inbox somewhere. I’ll have to get to it after lunch.

“That sounds cool!” I say. “I haven’t read that email yet. Do you remember the name of the photographer?”

“I forgot her name, and I don’t think I’m supposed to share it anyway because she’s not one hundred percent confirmed yet,” Kiara says sheepishly. “But I remember seeing from her bio that she went to UCLA like you. And like I said, she’s pretty. She looks like a model herself!”

I frown. My college ex, Celeste, was a photographer, but so were countless other women who went to my alma mater. I shake my head, like doing so will get rid of my thoughts of her.

Val raises her eyebrows. “Man, the way you’re talking about her, I guess I should consider myself lucky that you’re not into other femmes.”