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This means I have to go to D.C. Tonight.

And cancel on Noah Ross tomorrow.

I dial Terry, feeling very put upon. “Terry, this is Lanie Bloom.”

“I have caller ID.”

“Can I talk to Noah?”

“Noa doesn’t do the phone. You know that. Be glad you got me.”

“Listen, something’s come up, and I need to reschedule our meeting tomorrow. Do you have access to his calendar?”

“I’ll pass along the message, and see if Noa would like to reschedule.”

“It’s not anif, Terry—”

“You’ll hear from me if Noa does.”

I manage to wait until Terry hangs up to start cursing the phone.

An hour later, I’ve crammed my work for the weekend into three canvas totes. I’ve resurrected the old gym bag under my desk—leftover from an expensive lie I once told myself that I should join the spin studio across the street—and am amazed to find that spin-curious Lanie packed the bag with a change of clothes, clean underwear, deodorant, and a toothbrush. My Amtrak tickets and hotel are booked and now Ican spend my remaining minutes in the office writing an email to Noah.

Terry has not called me back.

In my first draft of the email, I went on too long and was overly repentant. Then I deleted everything and went the never-apologize-never-explain route. People need to reschedule. It happens. Our agreement is not off because of one conflict. I keep telling myself this, but I’d feel better if Terry called. The email is still sitting in my drafts.

“Alors,” Aude says, appearing in my doorway in herringbone pants so high-waisted I think all her ribs are inside. “You should leave if you don’t want to miss your train.”

“You’re right,” I say, shutting down my computer. “Merci.”

“De rien.” She pauses. “How will you get into Ryan’s apartment?”

I wave my keychain, which still holds a key to Ryan’s brownstone. I’ll leave it behind for him when this is done.

“Lanie,” Aude says, “when you get there, allot yourself a very short time inside Ryan’s home. In and out—two minutes tops. I think it would be best.”

“What do you think I’m going to do? Climb inside his hamper to breathe in his laundry?”

Aude looks down. “I once slashed an ex’s mattress when I went to pick up my knife block after we broke up.”

“See, that wasn’t even in my head before, but now...”

“In and out,” Aude coaches.

“In and out,” I say.

She kisses my cheeks and hands me the printout of mytickets. I’m rounding the corner to the elevator when I almost collide with Meg.

“Hot soup!” she shouts in warning.

“And hello to you, too,” I say.

“Oh good, it’s you. I was just coming up to bring you this.” She holds out a thermos, and when she cracks the lid, I recognize the aroma as her mother’s homemade egg drop wonton soup. My weakness. “I meant to bring it to you for lunch, but shit got crazy on the second floor. Are you leaving early?”

“Ryan’s mom is going to ‘donate’ a bunch of my stuff if I don’t go get it. Tonight.” I give Meg a side-eye that bespeaks my annoyance. “So, you know, I’m taking a fun, spur-of-the-moment trip to D.C.”

“Girl,” Meg says, her tone empathetic. “Want company? Wait, sorry, I forgot two small humans rely on me to meet their every need. You know I’ll be there in spirit. And... I wouldn’t spend too long on the inside if I were you.”