But because we’re not alone, I end the kiss after a few seconds, reorienting on the present moment. “And we did kiss there for real, several months ago, when we started dating.” I pick up the thread of our fake story. “Because I realized after all these years that it’d always been her.”

All the hands flutter over all their hearts.

Summer’s eyes widen, shining with what might be the threat of tears, but she, too, gets back to the story. “So, earlier this week, we recreated our kiss for fun. To celebrate, you know?”

“Yes, of course,” Geneva says.

The other woman adds, “And did you know then that you were in love with her?”

“It took me a while to figure it out,” I say, and Summer visibly trembles at the comment. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, the way it moves through her body. The way her breath ghosts across her lips.

“But you figured it out,” Geneva says.

As I meet Summer’s gaze, I speak the full truth when I say, “Yes, I did.”

We’re quiet later as we leave, heading down the stairs to the street, where Summer waits for her Lyft.

We don’t say a word. It’s strange for us. But she breaks the silence eventually, gesturing to my client’s home. “Are you going to feel as bad as I will when you tell her we broke up?”

“Yes.” But not for the reasons she thinks. Not because I feel guilty. I don’t fucking care about appearances anymore.

I say yes because I feel like it’s already happening—the breaking up—and it does feel bad.

The feeling is magnified when the Honda pulls up to the curb and I open the door and say good night.

She waves faintly from the car, the look in her eyes a little sad.

It probably mirrors mine.

Last night really was just one night.

Once she leaves, I don’t call a cab or a Lyft.

I start down the block, but I’m not alone for long. A familiar voice calls out, “Care to walk a woman home, love?”

I turn around and wait for Jane, coming from the party. “If I must.”

We turn uptown. “Seems like your little ruse is going well.”

“Is it though?”

“You had everyone eating out of the palm of your hand,” she remarks. “Maybe you missed your calling as an actor.”

“Maybe I did.”

She pats my arm. “Or maybe you should just let Summer know you actually have feelings for her, like ManCandyFan thinks you do.” She takes a breath, showing me her phone.

@ManCandyFan: He’s so in love with her.

@TheThird: Is he though?

@GossipLover1andOnly: Yes. It’s beyond obvious.

For a second, I close my eyes, letting the comments sink in. By and large, the internet is pretty stupid. But Jane isn’t. So, I open my eyes and meet her gaze, asking her opinion, since she knows me well.

“You think I have feelings for her?”

“Yes. And that perhaps you have for a long time now.” Then she hails a cab. “Time for me to go.”

“Thanks for leaving on that note.”

“What better note to leave on than giving you something to think about? Especially when I need to get home to feed Daisy. She’s quite demanding when she’s hungry. Cats. What can you do?”

“Feed them, I suppose.”

When she’s gone, I walk up the street, trying to remind myself why I never pursued anything with Summer in the first place. Why I never let myself examine all those things I felt for her but couldn’t name.

It’s because she’s practically family.

Because she’s part of my life.

Because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.

Only, none of those reasons hold as much weight as they did a week ago.

The next morning, I meet up with Logan and Fitz to play paintball in Central Park.

“I had an epiphany last night,” Logan announces.

“You’re joining a monastery?” Fitz asks.

“You’re dying your hair all the colors of the rainbow?” I put in.

“You’re going to Vegas and betting everything on red?” Fitz says.

Logan rolls his eyes. “No, dickheads. It’s about the strategy. I had it all wrong. It’s not about crushing the other team. It’s about how fucking awesome we are.”

I shoot him a skeptical look. “Is this an empowerment moment?”

“Yeah, because I don’t know if I’m ready to sing ‘Let the River Run’ with you cats,” Fitz says.

Logan gives him the side-eye. “Did you just reference Working Girl?”

“Yes, does this surprise you?” Fitz asks. “One, Harrison Ford is in it. Two, I grew up with three sisters and a single mom. We watched it together.”