The stern look on Jamila’s face softened. She took plates down from the cabinet and scooped food onto both of them. Olivia just stood back and let her do it.

“Okay. And me, too. No one was talking about you, and no one knew,” she said, “but I understand how you felt. Do you want to talk about what happened? And how you’re doing? Or do you want to watch Housewives?”

Ooh. Thai food and Housewives seemed like a much better idea for a Wednesday night than MSNBC and the crackers from the back of her cabinet.

“That second thing, please. I’ll get the drinks.”

A few minutes later, she followed Jamila into the living room, holding their glasses in each hand. It wasn’t until she saw Jamila stop cold as soon as she walked into the room that Olivia remembered what was paused on the TV.

Jamila looked from Max’s face, frozen on the screen, to Olivia, and back.

“Okay, change of plans. When you said you weren’t doing great, I thought maybe you meant you were ‘doing too much online shopping’ not great. I didn’t realize you were ‘watching your ex-boyfriend on TV just so you could get a glimpse of him’ not great! I assumed you were far too together for that!”

Olivia sat down on the couch.

“Yeah. I’m good at seeming together. But I … we …” She sighed. “I broke up with him, but I still love him so much, and I don’t know how to handle it. So yes, I’ve been watching him on TV to get a glimpse of him. But he just now did something that really confused me, and I still don’t know what to think about it.”

Jamila sat down next to her and handed her a plate.

“Just now as in he called you, or as in TV Max did something?”

Olivia picked up a spring roll and dipped it in peanut sauce.

“TV Max, but—so one of the reasons we broke up was because he would always jump into things without thinking about what would happen, or about how other people would react. You saw that, a little bit, at the community center.”

Jamila nodded.

“Right,” Olivia said. “Well … okay, I’m going to show this to you.”

Olivia rewound the clip and pressed play. Afterward, she pressed pause again.

“Well, he looks like hell, if that’s what your point was,” Jamila said. “Thin and miserable, and even his always perfect hair is all wrong. He’s missing you. Bad.”

“Really, you think so?” Olivia asked. She looked at the TV again. His hair really was all wrong; way too long, far too much gel. She shook her head. “No, that wasn’t my point, and while that’s nice of you to say, that’s not what I was asking for.”

Jamila shrugged.