Matty wandered over at that point—he had big opinions on that franchise, it turned out. He started to ask Amy a question as a girl with a tray of champagne glasses approached. We all took one, and I was very grateful that nobody felt the need to point out that three of us were underage. If someone had, it might have broken the spell that seemed to have been conjured in the loft—where none of the normal lines that held people apart mattered. And maybe that was why Margaux had this party—and that was why everyone wanted to come.

“So what are you studying at Columbia?” Amy asked Matty once we’d moved on from haunted robots, and robot ghosts (both were present in the GR universe, and were almost always at odds). He reeled off a truly impressive course load, even if I couldn’t seem to figure out what any of the subjects had to do with each other, or what he was going to do with any of it. I was about to ask something along those lines when Amy sighed and took a sip of champagne. “God, that sounds fun,” she said, shaking her head. “School. I think it’s the reason Lucien has two master’s degrees. He says it’s just because he has an irrepressible love for binders, but…” She laughed.

“So how did you guys meet?” Matty asked, and Amy just smiled.

“That’s a whole other story,” she said. “We certainly don’t have time for it now. But I’ve gotta say, I think you’re doing college right. I went in LA, and so I was auditioning a lot when I was in school, really focused on the industry right out of the gate. I kind of wish I would have done what you’re doing—expanded things a little. Taken some chances.”

“I think it worked out okay,” Matty said, and Amy laughed.

Toward the end of the night, Stevie and I had found ourselves up by one of the windows, Brad curled, sleeping, in her arms, and snoring occasionally. Both of us were looking out at the lights of Manhattan across the water, at the snow that had almost totally stopped falling. “I’m really sorry about the subway,” I said, after a moment of comfortable silence, punctured only by Brad’s snuffling breath. Somehow, it was easier to say this without looking directly at Stevie, but knowing she was right there. “I did wait for a while, and then I just figured you weren’t coming back. I should have stayed—I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“I’m sorry too,” Stevie said.

“It wasn’t your fault you got mugged!”

“But the phone was an accident. I knew you wouldn’t do that on purpose, and I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“I’m still sorry.”