This early in the morning, Jules and Vivian were alone except for the occasional runner who paid them no mind. It was just past seven. They’d taken an Uber here with a La Colombe stop on the way, and now steam curled from their coffee cups.

They meandered down the paths in silence for a while, Jules in comfy sweats, Vivian in yesterday’s clothes. It was probably sloppier than either of them had looked in public for years, even if a lot was hidden beneath their coats.

The thought made Jules grin, and she drifted a smidgen closer to Vivian as they walked, almost enough to jostle her shoulder.

“Feeling better now?” she asked.

“Yes.” Vivian looked around. “I went to a party here once, but I didn’t pay much attention to the place.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jules said. “I wish it wasn’t so far away. I appreciate you agreeing to come out here.”

The unintentional choice of words landed between them, and Jules couldn’t help a grimace.

“Well, if we don’t come out here, we’ll have to do it somewhere else,” Vivian said dryly.

“You know what I meant.” Jules dared to link her arm through Vivian’s, hoping to reassure her for what she said next. “I think we should wait a while for that.”

Thankfully, Vivian didn’t seem offended. In fact, she said, “Of course we should” in her familiar don’t-state-the-obvious tone.

It would do no good to ask how long they should wait; even Vivian wouldn’t know the answer. Wait until after the divorce was finalized, certainly. After Vivian’s job was secure, probably. After the baby was born, possibly. Too many variables. It made Jules’s head hurt.

And if today was the first day of the rest of their lives, she didn’t want to spend it with aching temples, especially not when a familiar bench came into view.

“Want to sit down?” She nodded at the bench. “Right there.”

Something in Jules’s voice clearly caught Vivian’s attention. As they sat on the bench, Vivian asked, “What’s so special about ‘right there’?”

Right there was where Jules had seen two women holding hands. She’d dreamed of doing the same thing with Vivian and told herself that was ridiculous, that it would never happen.

Jules looked toward the East River’s smooth expanse, at the shining resoluteness of Manhattan’s skyscrapers on the other side. They were pink and gold in the dawn. Her breath clouded the air as she exhaled.

She took out her phone. “Here.”

Then she showed Vivian the photo she’d taken of Bomber Jacket and Pink Lipstick—it seemed like a lifetime ago. In spite of the cold, her face warmed as she looked at their smiles, the way they were unapologetically themselves.