I was in the ballroom of the Plaza Hotel the next morning at 7 a.m. to help Cassandra prepare a product launch for a homewares collection from a folksy Texas couple who’d branded themselves through a makeover show on HGTV. They were building an empire based on white canvas slipcovers, cheaply handwoven throws, oversize nonworking clock faces used as wall art, and sheaves of wheat in mason jars. The couple seemed sweet enough, so I resisted murmuring “early Pottery Barn catalogue” as I stacked cans of their signature line of paint, in shades like Prairie Taupe and Tumblin’ Mauve, and plumped accent pillows silk-screened with inspirational phrases like “Family Matters” and “Love Is” (I mentally finished this sentence with “a cruel hoax,” “Hell on Earth” and “as fake as these faux marble eggs”).

“Carter, you seem completely out of it,” scolded Cassandra. “The flameless candles inside the hurricane lanterns are supposed to be in groups of three, on the battered tin trays painted with sunsets. What is wrong with you!”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been sleeping, and I think I’m dehydrated because I’ve been running a lot.” I work out harder during periods of heartbreak, because it’s one of the few things I can control. If you see somebody who’s suddenly in shape, it usually means that the rest of their life is in tatters. “I promise to do better, and see, I’m putting these decorative spheres made from old license plates into these hemp baskets, just like on the show.”

In truth, I’d been lagging for the past week, as I internalized the fact that I’d never see Edgar again. At first I’d wondered if I’d only had a crush on his celebrity dazzle and on the perks of being seen with him, but as a New Yorker, I worked very hard to spurn being impressed by stars. In New York, everyone acts like they’re famous; there’s a snob’s equality. But what I really missed was making Edgar smile, and hearing about that private room in the palace, and his face lighting up as he explored the copper IHOP table caddy holding glass pitchers with four different flavors of syrup. I missed surprising him.