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Clarissa’s brown eyes went wide. “You’re handling the coffee station and doughnut bar at our reception. I hardly think there needs to be another gift. In fact, I forbid it. No, no, no.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jamie said with a grin.

Clarissa then proceeded to lunge for her, WWF style. “You better stop it right now. I’m the bride. The chooser of all things. Say I’m the bride.” She had Jamie in an unconvincing headlock that she easily slipped out of.

“This woman was no match for Jamie,” the voice-over said.

She toppled Clarissa and pinned her. “You’re the bride, but you will never best me in a wrestling match. Do you hear me? I practice alone at night. Rigorous and determined.”

“Of course you do.”

Jamie released her. “Never know when you’re going to meet a criminal in a dark alley. I have to be ready.”

“I forgot you believe you’re Supergirl.”

“Aspiring. Don’t be too generous.”

Jamie slid back onto her spot on the couch next to Clarissa, looped their arms, and snuggled in. “I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that you’re about to get hitched. I’m literally going to be the only lesbian in New York unattached.”

“You could always race back to Mo. I hear she danced on top of a van in front of a Pinkberry last night.”

“That tracks. It’s also one of the reasons I likely should not rush back to Monique, but I do admire that carefree vibe. I use that word a lot now.”

“I’m impressed.”

“The lingo, ya know?” She shook her head. “But you can only cheer for a person on top of a van so many times before you just want to watchJeopardyin leggings at seven p.m. for the rest of your life. Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” Clarissa said matter-of-factly. “I registered for a PlayStation and got it. Tara and I may never leave this apartment. You can visit.”

She kissed Clarissa’s T-shirt clad shoulder. “Sold. You’re lucky.You’re in love and careening toward a life of romantic wine sipping and gazing into each other’s eyes.”

“That’s literally all we do. Not a single dish is washed. Just gazing.” Clarissa laughed, shaking Jamie’s knee. “But I love the way you idealize any and all settled relationships as if they’re perfect.”

“It’s never-ending envy.”

“I know. And I am very lucky. I recognize that. Tara lets me double dip and leave my towel on the floor and still tells me I’m the hottest woman alive. She even wants to learn Spanish. My mother is already buying workbooks.”

“See? That’s what dreams are made of.” She collapsed into the cushion. When Jamie was with Clarissa, she was one hundred percent herself, and lamenting her single-again status felt called for today. She was depressed and owning it.

“Your dreams will come true, too. But right now, you’re chasing something unattainable because your world was rocked off its axis three years ago and you can’t seem to duplicate the experience.”

“I’m not chasing anything. I’ve resolved myself to the fact that what I had with Leighton was fictional, a mirage, because everything aboutherwas. You can’t chase what never existed.”

“Except nothing since has measured up in your eyes. It’s your perpetual measuring stick.”

Jamie sighed. “Don’t point out accurate things. Wisdom and insight have no place in the midst of my self-wallowing.” She lifted her empty wineglass. “Dare we have two? Are we those people?”

“If we’re not, then I don’t want to know us.”

Jamie brightened. “Maybe your insight is welcome after all.” She scurried into Clarissa’s kitchen and returned with the open bottle of French rosé. “I might also be stalling because it’s Thursday, and Marlene and Edward always have sex on Thursday nights. It’s an event. A loud one.”

“The elderly neighbors?” Clarissa covered her mouth, which did nothing to smother the sound of her genuine laughter.

Jamie nodded slowly, communicating her very fragile feelings with her eyes. “There’s grunting, Riss. Sometimes happy squealing, and I don’t even know how squealing happens. The mattress could also be quieter. It’s not even trying.”

Clarissa’s face was red from silent laughter by this point. Shefanned herself to dry the tears of mirth that escaped. “Every Thursday?” she gasped. “Why have you not told me about this? I wonder if there’s an alarm that goes off to remind them it’s special time.”

“I needed the wine to find courage. Plus, I was trying to spare you. Absorb the horror on your behalf. It’s me who has to face them in the hall the next morning, and talk about the weather and coffee like I didn’t just ride the train to Pleasureville as an unwilling passenger.”