She paid the check by snapping down her American Express card and dismissed my offer to pay my half with “Don’t be silly.” Then she ordered an Uber, telling me that she didn’t want me on the subway drunk.

“I’ll be fine,” I protested.

“Nope. The car will drop me off and then take you home. And, before you say another word, all that stuff I said about our being partners and equals, that was the tequila talking. I’m still your boss, and this is an order.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

The Uber pulled up less than a minute after we exited the restaurant. Once we were in the back seat, the driver turned around to us. “Good evening, ladies. First stop is Seventy-Fourth and Park, correct?”

“Yes,” Lauren said. “Then you’re going to take this lovely woman to Queens.”

The driver smiled, which I took to mean that he could see that we were both drunk. He turned around, and we began making our way through Lower Manhattan.

“Shall I take the FDR?” he asked, now looking straight ahead. “It’s probably fastest.”

“No,” Lauren said. “I like watching the city go by at night.”

For the rest of the ride, Lauren looked out the window. I sat quietly, alternating my gaze between my view of the cityscape passing before me and my boss, captivated by the same view. The neighborhoods changed every ten blocks or so—the Lower East Side to the East Village to Gramercy Park to Murray Hill to Beekman Place.

The traffic on Third Avenue approaching the Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge was heavy, so the driver crossed over to Madison. A few minutes later, the car came to a stop at the near corner of Park and Seventh-Fourth Street, a good twenty feet from the building’s entrance.

“This is me,” Lauren announced.

“Come out my side so you don’t get killed,” I said.

I opened my door and stepped out. It had begun to rain, a light mist.

We would joke about it after, each of us taking credit. But I know the truth. It wasn’t her. It could have never been Lauren. This was all me.

I kissed her. On the lips. When she didn’t break the seal immediately, I parted my lips slightly and allowed my tongue to make contact with hers.

It was an out-of-body experience, with conflicting sensations—the cold rain juxtaposed with the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her hair against my cheek. It made my entire being tingle.

I broke the embrace. When I did, I knew Lauren wanted more.