“Look, what happened between you guys when you were younger was tough, but you were kids. We’re adults now and I promise tomorrow won’t feel like a setup. I’m a financial planner for a living, Kara. Let me plan your life. I promise you will be happy with the results.”

“There’s so much more to it than you think.” I sigh and look over the metal railing past her shoulder, seeing nothing but open air and city lights and still feeling trapped. In the midst of everything, I think of my dad, always finding him in the strangest moments. So many memories of him are faded after ten years, but not his disappointment in me. That still streaks through my mind with effortless clarity. And Ryan’s presence amplifies it by a million. Why wouldn’t it? I chose Ryan over him.

I have to get out of this dinner. It can’t happen. I let out an artificial laugh that’s meant to be subtle but winds up sounding disturbingly like the Joker’s.

“You know what? I can’t make it tomorrow. I have plans.”

“You verbatim just told me you didn’t have plans.”

I choose not to respond.

“Kara, stop. There’s nothing wrong with you hanging out with Ryan and there is zero pressure. With that being said, if you both happen to fall in love again and decide to get married and you and I have babies at the same time, that’s fine, too.”

My mouth feels dry. I look down at the champagne in my hand and wish it was water.

“I’m just kidding!” Cristina goes on. “In all seriousness, please don’t be nervous about this. You and Ryan are important to Jason and me, so the two of you spending time together is inevitable. Better to get the weirdness out of the way now than to have an awkward time at the wedding when you should be having the time of your life.”

Her eyes are soft and pleading and I know there’s no path to victory here. I groan and slump my shoulders.

“You’re the devil,” I whine.

“And you’re an angel,” she answers with a sparkling smile. “I’ll make reservations at Butter for eight o’clock. We’re going to have an amazing time.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

I down my champagne in one determined gulp, wanting and needing to erase all traces of Ryan from my troubled mind.

3

It’s just past nine in the morning as I sit on my softer-than-sin couch with my open laptop resting on my knees. Sunlight filters in through the sheer white curtains that cover my apartment’s casement windows, warming my bare feet and giving life to small specks of dust that never seem to land.

I’m staring at my computer screen, my fingers still tingling with excitement.