“One bite at a time,” I murmured to the dog, who panted at me. “Okay.” I glanced around, worried that someone had heard me talking to myself—then realized that Brad’s presence was probably insulating me from that. Because while muttering to yourself was a surefire way to have people not want to stand next to you on the train, it was perfectly acceptable to talk to a dog. Maybe this was why people had them.

The biggest problem was that I didn’t have a phone. I could barely remember the last time I’d been without one—not since I was a kid. I was in New York City, and I didn’t know how to get anywhere, or how I was going to get in touch with anyone—

It suddenly hit me—Kat didn’t have a phone either. So even if I could somehow get ahold of someone else’s, there was no way to contact her. Did I even know Kat’s number?

This was enough to startle me out of my panic.

Did I?

She’d been saved in my phone, first in my favorites, for the last four years, so I’d never had to actually punch in her numbers. But it was moot anyway, because even if I managed to remember her number, all it would do was ring on Teri’s coffee table.

It was now becoming clear to me that maybe I didn’t know anybody’s phone number. Maybe Beckett’s…

And he was in the city tonight. I remembered his text that I’d gotten on the train. But immediately after I thought about him, the shame that I felt whenever Beckett came up crashed over me once again. How I’d wrecked things with us, there in the dining room of the Boxcar Cantina. And then I hadn’t been brave enough, or honest enough, to tell Kat what had actually happened.…

All of which meant that I probably shouldn’t call Beckett, even if I remembered his number, which I wasn’t sure that I did.

I glanced up at the 1-800-BANKRUPTCY ad and realized that I at least knew Cary’s number: I Cruise. I knew my home number, my dad’s work number, and—I was almost positive—both my parents’ cell phones. Realizing that made me feel a little better. But then I thought about Kat once again and remembered I had no way to contact her—and she had no way to contact me—and I was back to panic again.

What. Are You Going. TO DO?!