“That only proves my point, Liza. You have to know that I didn’t do this because I’m a kind person. I did it for you. To be seen by you, valued by you. I’m so in love with you, Liza.”

Liza recognized this jittery, chatty, confessional Dorsey, and she wanted him to stop before he said something he’d regret. She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “I tried to tell you this before, but I did everything wrong. And when you came to the embassy . . .” Dorsey’s voice thickened. “When you told me you loved me, I thought it was said in the throes of passion and that you’d want to take it back.”

Liza shook her head. She had wanted to take it back—not because it was untrue, but because she had been so afraid that he wouldn’t return it to her. Dorsey’s eyes were red-rimmed and wet, but focused solely on her. It was stone-cold fear of LeDeya, Janae, and Bev’s collective fury that kept her from ruining her mascara and crying. Her chin wobbled anyway.

“Do you love me, Liza?” Dorsey searched her eyes. “Or do you still feel the way you did that morning in Alexandria?”

“Oh god, Dorsey!” Liza’s exclamation came out breathless. She fanned her eyes. Where had all the air in her lungs gone? “You had to know that night at the embassy that I loved you back. I was so wrong about you.”

“So was I, which is why I invited you here.”

“What exactly is here?” Liza looked around. “And how did you pull all of this off so fast?” No traffic, so many balloons they could lift the bridge, the same DJ from the first event—the detail was amazing.

“It’s kind of a formal Fuck-It ceremony. And money can move mountains.”

A harried-looking woman in black buzzed around them. “The Bird and the Bee have been located,” she spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Five and a half minutes to sundown. You two should take your places.”

“What places?” Liza asked. Dorsey led Liza toward the middle of the bridge. “Dorsey, what on earth are you planning?” Liza’s eyes widened. The sun split into reddish-pink streaks across the sky that seemed to set the river on fire. It reminded Liza of their first night of drinks at the hotel bar. Someone shoved a mic in Dorsey’s hand, and Liza could see the tremor there.