Eric had his arm wrapped around her as they rode the elevator back down, as if proudly announcing their coupledom to the world. It was this, combined with the general body weakness, and the g-force of being dropped so many hundreds of feet in a matter of seconds that caused Scarlett to do what she did next. As they emerged on the mezzanine, Eric stepping back to allow her to go first down the escalator, she said, “Are we…you know…dating?”

“We haven’t had a proper date yet,” he said, good-naturedly. “Where I come from, nothing is official until you’ve had dinner together in the mall and made out for at least two hours in a car. What do you do without malls and cars?”

Scarlett gave this the expected smile, but wasn’t feeling very amused. This conversation was ridiculous. She had never actually imagined how you did this—she thought it just happened. A mutual wave of understanding passed over both your heads, covering you both completely in the warm waters of relationship status.

But no. Like most things in life, it required an unexpectedly awkward moment of bureaucracy.

“I just mean…”

She tried to lift her voice and say that last bit in a joking way—but not too joking, as if her entire being didn’t exactly depend on the answer.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I didn’t think people in New York had these conversations.”

He was still smiling, but he had taken out his keys and was bouncing them nervously in his palm.

“We don’t,” she lied, poorly. “I was just kidding.”

“Oh, right,” he drawled.

Scarlett had no idea what that meant. He was playing with his sunglasses now, polishing them on his shirt. The ease had disappeared.

She had messed this up very, very badly. If her friends had been here, Scarlett thought ruefully, this would never have happened. Dakota would have come to the stupid Empire State Building, leapt out of the shadows, and tackled Scarlett before she would have let her ask that question. This is why her friends shouldn’t have been allowed to go anywhere. She got stupid when they were gone.

There was only one thing to do—get out of the burning plane. Put on the parachute. Jump. Salvage what she could. Make it seem like she didn’t care too much.

“Oh my God,” she said. “I completely forgot. I have to go home and…fix up a room. There’s a guest coming. I’d better get back.”

Again, this wasn’t smooth, but he accepted it graciously and gave her a little kiss before she escaped. It was a good kiss, but it didn’t have that same incapacitating energy as the one before.

In the Empire Suite the next morning, the silver walls were covered in taped up notes and Mrs. Amberson was in downward dog.

“Media!” she exclaimed. She pushed herself up to stand and folded her hands prayerfully in front of her chest. “We’re less than a week away from opening. Can you believe that this company had no publicity plan? Don’t answer that. Anyway, we’re about to change that. Do you see this?”