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Val scrunches up her nose. “Well… it comes and goes in waves. We haven’t been able to do much while you’re around, for example, but now… let’s just say that Burrito’s been sleeping in the living room.”

“Oh God,” I laugh. “I’m so sorry. Good thing I’m moving out in a couple of weeks.”

“Speaking of which,” says Kiara. “You’ve thoroughly vetted your new place, right? Because I don’t want you to accidentally move into some secret meth lab or something equally sketchy.”

Both Val and I give Kiara a surprised look.

“How in the world did you come up withthatscenario?” Val asks in horror.

Kiara laughs. “Sorry, I’ve been rewatchingBreaking Badon my tablet while you game.”

“Rewatching?” Val exclaims. “Just when I thought Icouldn’t love you any more. I had no idea you liked that shit! Oh man, we’re watchingMetástasistogether next.”

“Metástasis?” I ask.

“It’s the Colombian remake ofBreaking Bad. Not everyone likes it, but… I think it’s pretty good.”

Val and Kiara end up talking about TV shows for the rest of lunch while I go through my emails. One of them is a message from Evelyn saying she found an older sapphic couple for us to interview. By the end of the workday, we’ve scheduled the last two interviews for “Modern Love in Focus” this coming Saturday, one in the morning and one in the afternoon.

After I leave the office, Celeste and I meet up at an indie bookstore near the Golden Gate Park.

“It’s good that we’re doing this. A nice little break from just being holed up in my apartment,” Celeste says with a grin as we enter through the door.

I’d originally planned on visiting the store by myself to buy a couple books to help with advice requests that’d come in recently for Dear Karl. But Celeste asked to tag along, saying she’s been meaning to pick up some photography books for a while now.

I’ve always loved bookstores, and my good mood is only amplified by the comforting smell of old books. The store’s high ceilings and brightly colored walls are a huge bonus, and I find myself humming cheerfully as I browse the shelves. As we walk around together, Celeste smiles and points out various fun-looking books.

Even though I’m technically here for work, I can’t help but sneak glances at Celeste, observing how the overhead lights of the store reflect in her deep, dark eyes. I think I’m being sneaky, but a few minutes later, she meets my gaze and smiles. “What?”

“Just looking,” I say.

Her grin widens. “For books or at me?”

“Both.”

“Uh-huh. Find anything interesting?”

I hold up the book about breakups I’d been carrying in the crook of my arm.

Celeste reads the title with raised eyebrows. “Ouch, are you thinking of ending things with me already?” she asks in an obviously joking tone.

I laugh. “Please. We’d have to be in a relationship for me to do that. It’s for work. A lot of people broke up over the holidays and wrote in to our column. I usually know what to say, but I like to read books like this from time to time, so I can have more ideas on how to handle certain situations.”

“Makes sense,” Celeste replies with a nod.

We don’t say much else after that, and at some point, we even drift away from each other to look at different sections. But instead of being awkward, everything feels natural, like we’re two boats drifting closer and farther away from each other with the gentle ebb and flow of the tide.

I’m still browsing books when Celeste approaches me again, carrying a large stack.

“I think I’m done,” she says. “Ready to go whenever you are, but no rush.”

Curious, I peer down at the books in her hands. Most of them are about photography, but there are also a couple of pink and yellow books at the bottom that catch my eye.

I freeze. “Are those romance novels? You still like those?”

Celeste’s face reddens. “Yup.”

My brain short-circuits. “How—what—”