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I nod. “Don’t worry. I left myself a big slice on a plate in the fridge. There’s a fork in here, too. It’ll make for a good road trip snack.”

He smiles. “Keep me posted on things. Let me know if Harmony bakes anything weird.”

“Oh, that’s not a matter of if,” I correct him. “It’s a matter of when.”

“See you in a few.” He holds out his arms. This time, the invitation to a hug is clear. I hesitate for only a moment before letting him pull me to his chest. My head finds the same spot it did last night, right under his chin, ear pressed to his heart.

I lied to Koko earlier. I don’t think I like him; I know I do.

As for how he feels? I am still in the dark. But I swear our hug lasts a little longer than it should—confirmation bias be damned.

He only pulls away when a car honks from the street below.

“I better go.” He slings his bags over his shoulder and picks up his guitar. As he steps toward the door, I notice his leather jacket hanging on the hook behind him.

“Aren’t you taking that?”

He glances at the hooks and shakes his head. “Why don’t you look after it for me while I’m away?”

And with that, he walks out into the hallway.

A moment later, he is gone.

16

I wake up Sunday morning to the sound of a quiet kitchen. No one singing the same song lyric over and over and over until it’s absolutely perfect. My apartment smells like lemon Pledge and my winter wonderland bathroom candle, not the subtle traces of Epic Thunder or Mega Mountain Mist.

By 9:56 I’m in front of Koko’s store again, with two large coffees and two strawberry sunshine doughnuts in hand. However, the woman who rounds the corner at 9:59 is unfamiliar. She’s wearing a short black skirt with ripped black tights and has pink hair in the most perfectly immaculate bob. She unlocks the front door with Koko’s keys after greeting me with a “hey,” assuming I am an eager Sunday morning shopper.

“Where’s Koko?” I ask, having never seen anyone other than Koko behind the cash register.

“She had a family emergency,” this new woman tells me. “Had to fly back to Japan last night. I’m here for at least three weeks. Were you looking for something in particular?”

She continues to tell me her name is Perstephanie. She only drinks green tea and has celiac.

When it becomes clear I’m not there to purchase anything, she turns her attention to folding a pile of sweaters, and I take my coffee and my doughnuts and my sadness back upstairs. I even stop and knock on Harmony’s door, but there’s no answer other than a soft meowing from her cat.

My apartment feels so empty that I go for a walk, roaming the city for hours to avoid going back. I even stop into Nana’s seeking the familiar grunt from the grumpy redheaded barista, but there’s a guy behind the counter whose name tag says Todd and who smiles so widely that I turn around and leave.

• • •

I haven’t felt this alone since Larry died. I hadn’t really noticed the way that Mackenzie and Koko had begun to fill the tiny cracks his death left in my heart until they, too, were no longer around to fill them.

“They’re coming back,” I say out loud, startling an elderly woman passing me on the sidewalk. She clutches her purse and steps away, but it doesn’t stop me from repeating the phrase. “They’re only gone for a few weeks. They’re coming back.”

I finally convince myself to go home with a bribe to order takeout from Rol San. But when I call the restaurant to place my order, the owner recognizes my number and asks if I want the dinner for two. I have to tell her I’m dining alone tonight and will be for the foreseeable future. When the delivery guy comes, there’s a note scrawled on the paper lid: Men are pigs. You go, girl!

When I flop onto the couch, I’m not even sure a Christmas movie will pull me out of my funk. I flick the television on reluctantly, my heart giving a painful lurch when I click past Netflix and it pops up the option for Schitt’s Creek. I scroll past to the Hallmark Channel and make my way through A Princess This Christmas, The Christmas Princess Swap, and A Very Royal Christmas before I give up and decide to go to sleep.

As I plug in my phone for the night, I check my texts one last time, hoping for one from Mackenzie or even Koko, but there’s nothing. There’s just a single missed call from an unknown number.

“Good night,” I whisper, feeling stupid the moment I do it.

My phone screen stays dark.

• • •

“Your phone is buzzing.”