I spend the entire night pacing my room. I don’t sleep at all. I can’t. My mind won’t stop focusing on that damn letter. Why did that have to be our first real topic? Why did it have to be about commitment? The way David was looking at me... It was like he wanted me to explain why I broke up with him. In all the time since we split up, he never asked me for an explanation. I assumed he understood how I felt. But now it seems like he was trying to psychoanalyze me.

I hear his alarm go off at six o’clock. It’s one of those annoying beeping alarms. Personally, I hate them. Who wants to jump out of bed in the morning just to make that annoying sound stop? I have my phone set to play a soothing melody to wake me. Not that I need it today or that I’d find it soothing. I pick it up to silence it, and then I text Aria.

Emily: I’ve been up all night and feel awful. I know our column is due today, but with everything going on, I’m not going to be able to make the deadline. I’m sorry.

I send it and wait for her response. I’m not lying when I say I feel awful, though I’m sure she’ll interpret it as me being sick, and I’m fine with that.

A minute later, her response comes through.

Aria: Don’t worry about it. We don’t have to start the column this week. You’ve had a crazy past few days. I’m not surprised you’re run-down from it. Stay home and get some rest.

Her understanding makes me feel worse. At least I don’t have to write that column today, though. There’s no way I’m up for it. I get in bed and try to close my eyes now that I don’t have a deadline looming over me.

I wake up an hour later when there’s a soft knock on my door.

“Emily, are you up?” David calls.

I debate telling him I’m not going into the office today, but that would lead to a conversation about our column, which he has no idea won’t appear in this week’s paper. It’s better to let Aria tell him when he gets to work. I remain silent, pretending to be asleep.

“Emily?” he calls again. When I don’t answer, he texts me.

David: Tried to wake you. Didn’t want to barge into your room, though. Hope you’re okay.

Thankfully, my phone is still set on silent, which is what I do every night so I don’t get notifications disrupting my sleep. His message only makes me feel worse because he’s such a sweet guy. Maybe I should ask Nate and Aria to set him up with someone. He deserves to be happy.

The apartment door closes with a click, and I flop back against my pillow. Avoiding someone I live with is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Second only to breaking up with David. I force my eyes shut and sleep away the morning because I’m not ready to face the day yet.

At noon, I’m awake, showered, and heading out for a walk to clear my head. It’s sunny, and even with my sunglasses on, I find myself squinting. I stick to the sidewalks, merging with the crowd. The heart of Priority is always insanely busy at lunchtime. People are hurrying about, trying to catch up with friends and colleagues on their allotted sixty-minute lunches. I head for the corner café on Main Street. They have outdoor seating and great food. I sit down at an open table and wait for a waiter to approach me.

“Emily?” I hear behind me.

I turn to see Sebastian. “Oh, hey,” I say, not bothering to get up to greet him.

“I thought that was you,” he says, approaching the table. “Are you on your lunch break?”

“Actually, I’m playing hooky today. It’s been a busy week, and I needed a mental health day.” I raised my hand, shielding my eyes from the sun, which is directly behind Sebastian.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asks. “I have about thirty minutes before I have to be back at the office.” Sebastian works for a pharmaceutical company on this street. He told me about it on our date.

“Sure. Be my guest. I hate eating alone anyway.” I motion to the seat across from me, and he slips into it.

“Thanks.” He crosses his arms on the table. “So, how have you been? We haven’t talked all week.”

I was supposed to call him, but after seeing him with that other woman on Sunday, I decided not to. “Like I said, it was a busy week. I got my own column at work,” I say, but my excitement fades almost instantly. “Well, I’m coauthoring it with one of my colleagues.”

“Still, that’s huge. Congratulations. You mentioned you wanted to write a column one day.”

“Yeah, it happened a lot sooner than I expected.”

He smiles. “You’re moving up quickly.”

The waiter approaches us with menus. “Can I get you two something to drink while you look over the menu?”

“Actually, I only have a half hour, and I already know what I want,” Sebastian says. “I’ll have an unsweetened iced tea and the roast beef on rye. Oh, and Swiss cheese on that, please.”

I cringe at the mention of Swiss cheese. Never was a fan of the sour-tasting cheese.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to rush you,” Sebastian says, misreading the look on my face.

“No problem. I completely understand.” I look at the waiter. “I’ll have the same, but I’ll take American instead of Swiss.” I hand him my menu.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” the waiter says.

“Ah, not a Swiss cheese fan,” Sebastian says.

“Not in the least bit. You can have it all.”

Sebastian laughs. “You know, I think it’s better when two people have different tastes. There’s no fighting over food. My last girlfriend loved Swiss cheese. She used to steal mine off my sandwiches when I wasn’t looking. I hated that.”

“That was pretty bold of her.”

“Yeah, she didn’t last long. I’m a man who loves his food.”

“And mini golf,” I say, instantly regretting it. Why did I bring that up? Now he knows I saw him with that woman.

“Mini golf? Did you go mini golfing last weekend?”

The waiter returns with our iced teas, and I immediately sip mine to buy more time. “You mentioned it at the bar when we met.” I scrunch my face up as if in thought. “Or maybe that was my roommate.” I shrug like it makes no difference.

He sips his drink and drops the subject. “Do you have plans for this weekend?”

“Hadn’t really given it much thought yet.” I do need to get out of the apartment, though. “You?”

“I was thinking of heading to Last Call tonight. You game?”

Why not? He’s not serious about me, so there’s no chance I’ll hurt him. “Sure. Meet you around eight?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The waiter brings our sandwiches. “Here you are. We’re out of coleslaw, so I hope you’re both okay with potato salad,” he says. “I brought you extra pickles, too.”

“Thanks,” I say, eyeing up the German potato salad, which happens to be my favorite.

Once the waiter leaves, Sebastian says, “Ugh, I hate German potato salad.”

“Trade you for my pickles,” I offer. “My mom used to make the best German potato salad when I was growing up. I miss it. I’ll be happy to take yours to go and eat it this weekend.”

“By all means, go right ahead.” He picks up his plate, tilts it over mine, and forks the potato salad onto my plate. When he’s finished, I do the same with my pickles.

“See, I told you it was good to be opposites,” he says. “We both win.”

We eat our lunches, and after getting a to-go box for my potato salad and splitting the check, we walk out onto the sidewalk.

“Well, I’m this way,” he says, motioning in the direction of his office.

“And I have to head home and get this in the refrigerator. I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

He cups my elbow and leans in to kiss me lightly on the lips. He smells like pickles, and while I like pickles, I don’t really want to kiss someone who was just eating them. I pull away quickly and say, “Bye.” I turn and walk off down the sidewalk.

As much as I want to like Sebastian, something about him makes me pull away each time I’m with him. I just wish I knew what it was.