Wide-eyed, Solange stops midstroll and grabs my sleeve. “You mean there aren’t droves of women in the twenty-first century willing to enter into a marriage of convenience to further their ambitions? I’m shocked, I tell you. Absolutely shocked. Still, it’s your life, so carry on, my emotionally mature friend. Carry on.” Her phone rings, and she checks it. “It’s Brandon. Give me a sec.”

I stroll beside her as she speaks to him. Then we pause in front of the Tivoli Theatre, a DC historic landmark, its bright lights bathing the intersection with a soft yellow glow. Or maybe that’s pollution. Yeah, that’s definitely pollution. Despite the smog, the area’s still buzzing with passersby and people dining outside along Fourteenth Street.

“I swear, dude,” she says to Brandon, shaking her head. “One of these days, I’m not going to be around to save you.” A pause, and then: “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Solange glances around, then taps on the screen. “Sorry about that. His coworker finally showed up, so he’s heading home, but Brandon being Brandon, he forgot his keys. Needs me to let him in.” When she’s done fiddling with her phone, she looks up at me. “My ride should be here any minute. Rain check on the tour?”

“Sure,” I say. “I can send you photos of the layout of my unit. That should be enough to field any questions about”—I make air quotes—“‘our’ place.”

“Good thinking.” Treating me to the loveliest lopsided grin, she bumps into my side. “Listen, getting back to what we were talking about: If your philosophy on relationships works for you, it’s not my place to judge. Really.”

I release a shaky breath. Even though Solange now understands the nature of my and Ella’s relationship, she hasn’t dismissed me completely. She’s showing me more grace than I’m used to. And that should be enough, right? I don’t need Solange’s permission to be who I’ve always been. We can respect each other’s differences and still work as a team for the next two weeks. Positioning myself for partnership should be my main concern anyway.

A dark sedan pulls up beside us and the passenger-side window slides down.

Solange leans over and looks inside the car. “Gabriel?”

The driver nods.

“This is my Lyft,” she tells me. “Thanks for an interesting night.”

“Yeah. That’s a great way to describe it: interesting.”

I survey her features in the lamplight, taking in the way the shadows seem to adore the planes of her face. There’s truly no angle at which this woman isn’t alluring. I’m irritated with myself for noticing.

She gives me a slow smile. “We made good progress today, you know.”