Two wineglasses are on the coffee table, evidence of a romantic night. I clear them away, rinsing the ruby-colored stains pooling at the bottom of the goblets. The coffee is brewing, filling the galley kitchen with the aroma of the dark roast beans Sean introduced me to when I moved into his Murray Hill apartment eighteen months ago.

I turn my head at the sound of a key in the lock, and a moment later he comes in, stepping out of his flip-flops. He’s humming, like he does when he’s happy. He’s been humming a lot lately.

“Hi there,” I say as he sets down a shopping bag from Whole Foods with a bouquet of purple tulips peeking out of the top. “You’re up early.”

His thick, gingery hair is sticking up a bit in the back, and I suppress the urge to reach out and run my fingers through it.

“Thought I’d pick up breakfast.” He unpacks eggs and croissants and strawberries.

As I reach for the carafe of coffee, Sean’s bedroom door opens.

He quickly gathers the tulips as his girlfriend, Jody, walks into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she says, stretching. She’s wearing a pair of Sean’s boxers, which are almost covered by one of his big hoodies. Her curly hair is up in a high ponytail, and her toenails are painted bright pink.

Sean gives her the tulips—and a kiss. I quickly turn away, busying myself opening the fridge and pouring almond milk into my travel mug.

“Enjoy breakfast,” I say. “I’m heading out to get some work done.”

“On a Sunday?” Jody crinkles her pert little nose.

“I want to revise my résumé. I have an interview tomorrow.”