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She turned the dress over and began sewing the other side.

She didn’t want to have to appease Justin and his family by getting married and having kids. She didn’t want to appease Aly and her friends by coming out as bisexual when the truth was she still had no idea what identity, if any, felt right to her.

She wanted to be herself.

She wasn’t sure she could do that witheitherof them.

She stopped sewing as something abruptly clicked into place.

She’d been thinking about this as a choice between two people. But Aly and Justin were not the only other two people on earth. She’d leftout the third option: neither of them.

Or, put differently, she could chooseherself.

Which would mean being alone, something that had previously been her worst-case scenario. Come to think of it, the whole reason she’d gone to East Hampton with Ryan was to avoid being alone in this apartment—alone with her thoughts, her existence, her future. Alone with herself.

But maybe being alone wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe if she was alone, she could finally have the space to think about who she was.

Or maybe she’d been alone this whole time, regardless of who she was with.

Because what was more lonely than not being seen by the people you love?

And then, before she could think any further about what to do, she got a text from Justin.

Can I come by to talk?

She wondered how he knew she was home and then remembered the Ring camera he’d insisted they install on the front door. How annoying, to be kept track of like that. He must have gotten a notification, seen a recording of her coming home. Could he tell she had been holding her breath as she entered? Was her trepidation visible through the Ring’s lens?

She didn’t want to write back. She didn’t want to stop sewing. She wanted alone time.

But she also knew it was now or never. She might as well get this over with. She put her pins down.

Give me a couple hours to shower and get settled, she replied.But then yes. Come over.

Just tell me when, he said.

***

A few hours later, Lola’s groceries—too many, probably—had arrived. She’d then taken a much-needed shower, blow-dried her hair, actually unpacked all the way, ignored the groceries and ordered a dinner of soup dumplings (which she ate standing up), and put her sweatpants on. Finally, she couldn’t put it off any longer. She texted Justin.

While she waited for him to come by, she wondered idly if he’d knock on the door or if he’d let himself in. She already felt like he should knock, even though this was still his apartment too. Both of their names were on the lease.

With a pang, she remembered how excited they’d been to find it, how they’d walked into this empty, sparkling loft holding hands, mouthingoh my godat each other. They’d looked at a dozen or so places before finding this one, no apartment checking all their boxes until the Realtor called and said, “I think I have something perfect in Soho for you.” She remembered how they’d carried their things in together, laughing as they knocked into the walls, then eaten pizza sitting on this floor surrounded by boxes and had sex there too.

She knew many people who stayed in relationships out of a need for good housing. It was a classic NYC conundrum and understandable, given the market. She did not want to be one of those people, though she also knew she probably shouldn’t live in her dream loft by herself. It would be a colossal waste of money.

Maybe it was time to get some new dreams.

She was sitting on the couch in the living room when, within twenty minutes, she heard the sound of his key in the door.So not going to knock, then.That was fair, she supposed.

She wondered where he’d been staying—at a hotel, with a friend,or maybe with another girl? Though that last one felt unlikely after everything he’d said. Still, it was odd to imagine him with someone else, but if she was really going to go through with this, he eventually would be. Would he look at this new other person the way he’d looked at her? Probably yes. She’d find a way to be okay with it when there was someone new in the picture for Justin to love.

And then there he was. He looked a little out of breath, but otherwise not a hair was out of place, his pleated khakis crisp and his sneakers so white, it was as though they’d never been outside. He unlaced them and left them by the door before approaching her.

“Can I sit down?”

She nodded and made room for him.

“So,” he said.