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It was the Stepped Out post.

She’d already been through Justin dumping her. She knew she’d survive whatever sort of breakup 2.0 they were having. But the post? The intrusion on her personal life? This Hamptons life she’d been living? She wasn’t sure she could get through it again.

Tears streamed down her face. “I can’t believe they outed me.”

“It’s bad enough being outed when you’re actually gay.” He nodded. “But you’re still voting undecided. How dare they pull this crap? It’s so unethical. Do you want me to call their lawyer?”

She wept into his shoulder, the embarrassment taking hold. “I wonder if Aly’s seen it.”

“Woof,” Ryan said. “Maybe go talk to her?”

“I doubt she wants to talk to me.”

He hesitated, and then it registered. “Ah. I gather she knows that Justin is here.”

Lola was hit with alternating waves of sadness, regret, and fear. “That’s why you shouldn’t date your neighbor, I guess.”

“He spent the night, I assume?”

“Yes,” she said. “But nothing happened—except for me having to introduce him and Aly and totally messing it up.”

Ryan winced. “I think the sooner you go over there and face her, the better. I’ll wait for you.”

“I know that you’re right, but I don’t think my legs work.”

He laughed and pulled her up. “You can do this,” he said and then gave her a little push toward the door.

Lola was so panicked about talking to Aly that she barely even registered the walk to Aly’s front door. Suddenly she was just there, knocking.

And knocking and knocking.

What would Lola even say to her? She hadn’t planned a speech, hadn’t tried to imagine all the different ways this could go. For better or worse, Lola was in the present moment—facing it.

Or trying to. She kept knocking.

Aly’s car in the driveway meant she was home, but all the lights were off.

Lola tried the door. It was open. Inside, the house was a mess. Cartons of ice cream crowded the coffee table. The couch was covered in tissues. An empty wine bottle rolled across the floor. But Aly was nowhere to be found.

Lola walked around the side of the house, then to the pool.

“Aly?” she called, rounding the corner.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Aly’s voice came out hoarse and quiet. She was sitting at the edge of the pool, feet dangling into the sparkling turquoise water. She wore all black, a linen set from the Row that Lola had admired in Aly’s closet just a few days ago.

She had her sunglasses on, but through the lilac lenses, her eyes were puffy, as though she’d been crying. As though maybe she hadn’t slept at all.

“Come to break my heart?” Aly asked.

“Oh my god, no!” Lola said.

Aly stood up and walked toward her. She was holding a Starbucks paper cup of black coffee, no lid, the edges all chewed.

“Oh, Aly,” Lola exhaled. She moved to hug her, but Aly dodged her arms, her coffee sloshing.

Despite how distraught she obviously was, Aly looked prettier than ever, her cheekbones extra defined, even her puffy eyelids giving her a kind of sensual, sleepy look.