“ . . . wait to listen when you’re ready to talk, and I don’t know if it’s me. I don’t know if I can give you Mozart love, I’m, like, a baby banging on the keys!”

“I didn’t ask for this either, you know,” Oscar snapped. “This isn’t why I came to New York! I didn’t want to meet a girl. I wanted to learn, stretch, that was the goal, but I’m just . . . penned in.”

“By me? By this?”

“By . . . no.” He had his eyes closed.

“I’m distracting you.” Admitting that made me shrink back. “I’m the problem, Dad was right.”

Oscar’s eyes flew open. “What about your dad?”

I opened the door. “I’m going. I don’t know what to do, so I’m going.”

The door shut behind me more quickly than I’d expected, way too much finality to its slam. I walked shakily up the steps to the sidewalk, hands pressed to my cheeks, wanting to scream again.

I knew I had no right to break down, not when Oscar was going through a real crisis with no one supporting him. I had no right to do anything, and the shame of it made my eyes dry up. I sniffed hard, pulling my spine straight.

“Oh, so you’re home now?” Jules stood outside her building, hands tapping hips. “This is how I talk to you now—bumping into you on the street? Feels familiar.”

I pressed a finger to my temple, spots gathering.

“I sent you eight texts while you were gone. If you were even gone. Is this why?” She pointed to Oscar’s door, grinning. “No time for your so-called friends now that—”

Her face dropped. She reached for me.

“Holy shit, Ruby, you’re crying, why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying anymore. I’m fine, I’m normal, everything’s fine!”

“Oh-key . . .” She glanced behind her, then gathered me under one warm arm. “Let’s go inside. Get you some hot cocoa.”

I laugh-sobbed, plodding along with her. “It’s July!”

“It’s August. We’ll crank the AC.”

She led the way to her apartment, through the living room and onto the edge of her pink bed, then crouched to stare at me, eye to eye.

“Do you want to talk about it? Forget about it?”

I wiped my eyes. “Maybe start with forgetting?”

“How about a sleepover? It’s been a while.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll grab some delivery menus, then.” She started into the hall, then doubled back, poking her head into the doorway. “Hey, so did I tell you I signed up for a 5K? It’s called the Squirrel Run, no idea why, but it’s in the fall and . . . do you maybe want to run it with me?”

The image of my squirrel friend in jogging gear got a smile out of me. “Send me the link. Sounds great.”