Edgar faced me and I felt breathless and so turned on and like crying, all at the same time—it was an unexpected tremor, as if introducing my cherished landmark to a crown prince was way too much emotional activity for one lunch hour. I could tell Edgar was feeling the same thing, because he was bending toward me, only he paused, as if some inner alarm had been triggered. He stepped back, leaving me helpless and confused and hurt.

“What? What is it?”

“I . . . I need to be cautious.”

“Why? You’re out, you’re single, who cares?”

“I know, and I so wish I could, I wish I could stop remembering everything that’s been drummed into me, except—look around. What do you see?”

“People. Tourists. Nannies with strollers.”

“And they’re all pretending not to recognise me. And they all have phones.”

“I get it. Pictures. Which they can sell. Of Prince Edgar and some guy from New Jersey. It might seem a little trashy. A little, what’s that word? Common. And I understand. Your life is very different from mine. And I don’t envy you. But thanks for the picnic and the bike ride and I guess—I was about to say I’ll see you, but I bet I won’t. This was all, I don’t know, a footnote. A bubble.”

I walked my bike to a nearby rack, and as I was locking it back into place, I felt a hand on my shoulder, which in New York is usually a signal to scream for help, but before I knew it I’d been spun around and I was surrendering to a shockingly passionate kiss and two wonderfully strong arms embracing me and a moment of such pure happiness that it made me stop being a person and turn into an essence, into a paint chip or a fragrance strip labeled “Pure Happiness,” into something that all the stories and products and sequined T-shirts are based on.

Don’t do it, I told myself, don’t faint and don’t be such a pushover and don’t ever stop kissing him, and don’t try to remember every detail of this moment so I can describe it to Adam and Louise and my sister—something I really didn’t need to worry about, because I’d never forget it, and then, before I could even begin to stop my brain and other parts of my body from bursting, it was over, and Edgar’s face was a foot away from mine and he was grinning triumphantly.

“What did you call me? Chickenshit?”