“I love this gala,” I say, looking around at the extravagance. Men in dark suits and women in gorgeous gowns mingle under the glow of a towering Christmas tree, wrapped in thousands of lights and bursting with decorations that look like real gold. The rest of the ballroom is a candlelit wonder. Dripping chandeliers. Waiters in dark uniforms. “It’s just so . . . lavish.”

“So lavish,” Emma agrees.

I’m still looking around when I spot Adam and my heart slams against my chest. He’s walking toward us, his dirty-blond hair slicked back and his tuxedo perfectly tailored to his perfect body. I think I sigh but recovery quickly because his gaze finds mine and I become transfixed on those beautiful blue eyes of his.

“Wow,” he says when he reaches us, not even bothering to look at his sister or mine. His eyes are set on me and only me. My heart flips again. “You look stunning.”

“Thanks. You look . . .” I swallow. “You look great. Really great.”

I feel myself blush when he laughs. I made it awkward. I take a breath and tear my eyes from his to my sister, but she’s looking amused and so is everyone else standing around us. Thankfully, they take pity on us and start a conversation with him included, but I’m not paying attention. I’m hyper focused on Adam and his cologne and his height and his voice and the way he chuckles ever-so-lightly and then he brings his hand up to my back, somewhat of a reflex, and my spine tingles all the way down like he’s sending an electric shock through me.

“Can we talk?” he asks after a moment.

I shrug. “Sure. Outside?”

He nods over to the nearest balcony and signals for me to set my hand in the crook of his elbow, which I do. As we walk, we smile at familiar faces and not familiar faces, and then we’re outside, alone. There are heaters set up, but I’m still a little cold.

“Take my jacket.” He starts moving to take it off, but I set a hand on top of his.

“I’m fine. Let’s stand beneath a heater.” I walk over to one and sigh at the warmth.

“I didn’t get a second of sleep last night.” He turns to me. “After you left, I just sat there running everything over and over. I’ve spent the last two years doing that, trying to figure out where we went wrong. How we went wrong. We were the couple that was supposed to make it. The perfect couple, remember?”

“Life happened.” I shrug a shoulder.

“Sure. Life happens, but that doesn’t mean we can’t stand together while it happens. When did we become the people who can’t handle shit? We’re from Washington Heights. I mean, what the hell?”