But Eden had grown to love being alone on Thursday nights. Her mom’s friend Nancy—who was Mark’s mom (as in the aforementioned only guy who didn’t make Eden nervous) and who was married to Eden’s dad’s best friend from high school—had forced her mother into tagging along to a hot yoga class a few months after the accident, and her mom had liked it. So usually she would leave for yoga before Eden even got home from therapy, and then she’d go out for dinner after class, so Eden would have a whole night to herself. She could watch whatever she wanted on TV; read without being disturbed. Text endlessly with Anjali if she wanted. Sometimes they even talked on the phone, but it was easier not to.

Julian posted from Vanilla Sky, a frozen yogurt place, just as Eden finished her dinner and a playlist called “Interstate Highway Love Songs,” which ended with a song called “Interstate Highway Love Song,” which really did seem like a good driving song, not that Eden knew how to drive. At therapy, she’d almost brought up the playlists—the voice mail, too—but she was afraid Barbara would see it all as some kind of step backward; besides, her relationship with “Michael’s Spotify” was private. She’d talked instead mostly about the shooting in California and the news in general and how did you process all the bad stuff in the world on a minute-by-minute basis? Barbara had suggested maybe a news “break,” a step back for self-care. But how did you step back when it was literally all right there in the palm of your hand?

A literal dumpster fire was being put out a few miles away.

Eden could probably get to Vanilla Sky in less than ten minutes; she pictured herself walking in casually, filling up a cardboard bowl with chocolate and raspberry swirls. Then, in the back seating area, she’d spot Julian; they would talk and everything would be normal.

He’d ask her out. Maybe finally he’d follow her and friend her and everything.

It would look better with Anjali along.

She texted, Want to hit Vanilla Sky with me? My mom’s out.

Um. IDK? Sudden craving lol?

Julian’s there.

Stalker. Sure. See you in ten?

Bway and 31? Walk up together?

The text from Eli was a video. Eden tapped it to play. It showed the device displaying a six-digit countdown with twelve hours and nine minutes and less than thirty whirring seconds to go.

You went back and got it? she wrote.

Yes.

Conflicted feelings about that: Relief. Dread.

What’s it counting down to? Handoff?

No. Says we have to figure it out. Can you meet me?

Argh.

She texted Anjali. Sorry. My mom just texted. Coming back early. Wants me home.

It was easy to lie in texts.

Whatevs, Anjali wrote back.

Eden texted Eli. Sure … where?

Omonia Cafe?

Sure.