“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? They’re learning so fast,” she said, and I could hear the pride in her voice. I wondered how the two of them being just colleagues was going.

“It’s really nice,” I said.

“Here, take a closer look,” Jess said, and handed me the bouquet. She nodded at the counter. “It’s for one of the baristas. From her mom, for her birthday. Isn’t that cute?”

The flowers were so heavy they practically sprained my wrist. I turned them this way and that, made a great show of admiring Ros’s handiwork. It was amazing, how much they’d learned in so short a time. I was overcome with a feeling of gladness, that they were doing well at work, that they were getting back to feeling like their old self. I handed the bouquet back to Jess—which was when I noticed the chain. The chain that looked exactly like Ros’s, circled around their neck.

“I like your necklace,” I said before I could stop myself.

Jess’s hand went to her neck. “Thanks,” she said, but otherwise gave no clues as to the necklace’s provenance.

I walked back to Phoebe’s car clutching my sourdough, slightly stunned by what I’d seen. Maybe the chain meant nothing. Maybe chains like Ros’s were a dime a dozen. Maybe Jess had been, once upon a time and two and a half hours away, to the very same store Ros had been to; maybe Ros really had been allergic to it, had donated it to a thrift store in a classic fit of Ros-pique, and Jess had picked it up one day, casually, because she thought it made her look more like Rocky, or Sylvia Plath, or whomever it was she was trying to emulate, with her punches and her poetry.

Maybe Ros hadn’t given their necklace to Jess.

Maybe they weren’t falling in love and leaving me behind.

I climbed into the back seat of Phoebe’s car, and as she piloted us away, the tears began to fall. I fished around for my sunglasses, which were reliably in one of three places: propped on my head, in the front bib of my overalls, or in the front pocket of my backpack. Only my search for them came up empty.

“Do either of you see my sunglasses up there?” I asked.

“Did you have them at lunch?” Oliver said.

“No,” I said. “They should be here.…”

“Do you want to go back?” Phoebe said.

I did not want to go back. I did not want to see Jess again, wearing Ros’s chain. I didn’t want to wonder what that meant and what was happening between them. I wanted everything to be in the right place, right where I expected it to be.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m not attached to them. Honestly.”