When I tell him the anecdote, Lance doubles over in laughter. “That’s dating in New York for you. Hot, sane and single. Pick two.”

“I don’t follow,” I say, sinking into the couch.

He rolls his eyes. “All the guys in New York are sharks. So you can only pick two of those options. Sane, single, but not hot. Hot and sane, but not sane. Three is impossible. It’s like finding a wide open parking space during rush hour on Madison and Broadway. It’ll never happen.”

I giggle as I consider which one of the criteria Brandon misses.

“New York is a dating pool of sharks,” he continues. “Also, you are an absolute savage for messing with him like that.”

“He was keeping a record of his dates with women like he was an archivist. What the hell is the matter with him?”

Lance shakes his head. “I mean, dating in New York doesn’t make it easy to keep track of everyone. Plus, you pulled some crazy shit, too. Throwing Carter in his face? Where did that come from?”

“I…I don’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t thought of Carter in a while, and when I saw him on TV it jostled me. It seemed like a fun little dig to add.”

Lance squints, plopping down on the couch next to me with a bag of chips.

“You know at some point, you probably are going to have to talk to him again. If you’re bringing him up in a situation like that…it’s probably a sign.”

“A sign that what?”

“You’re not over him.”

I scoff as I take off the top to a container of guacamole. “Oh, I’m over him. I’m perfectly fine with my life now. I’ve never been in better shape. Or happier.”

Lance narrows his gaze. “If you say so.” He turns back to the TV, flipping around Netflix.

“If I say so? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s code for ‘I don’t believe you.’ I think you are lying to yourself. There’s a big difference between ‘trying to convince yourself you’re over him,’ and actually being over him. You haven’t been on more than one date with a single guy.”

“Well you should believe me,” I scoff defensively. “I just brought up Carter because it was funny that he was on TV.”

“And he was talking about his laces.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Lance noticed Carter’s emphasis, too.

“His shoelaces. That was just coincidence,” I retort. “He’s got a new line of sneakers out. So he wanted to find a way to publicize them. He’s so full of himself, he’ll take any chance to push his stuff.”

Lance picks up a heap of guacamole with his chip and crunches it. I do the same.

“Pure coincidence. I’m sure. He said it three times, like he was Dorothy from Wizard of Oz or something. Laces. Laces. Laces.”

I furrow my brow. “ I’m pretty sure he didn’t say it thee times. And I didn’t know you were a basketball fan.”

He swallows. “Joseph and I may or may not have started watching the Wolverines after this last summer. And Joseph may or may not have bought courtside season tickets.”

“You’re just telling me this now?”

“I don’t like to tell you things that remind you of Carter. I thought you were trying to get over him.”

I bite into another chip with guacamole, then cross my arms. “I am over him.”

Lance finally clicks onto Friends Season Four and presses play, not responding.

Turning toward me again, he arches an eyebrow. “So over him that you are throwing his name out there to get revenge at random guys at the bar?”

I frown. “Right. That means I’m over him.”

Lance mumbles something unintelligible.

“Hey, what did you just say?”

He groans. “Look. I’ve been watching you self-destruct on dates for months now. I’m actually starting to feel bad for these guys. They don’t stand a chance. They’re competing against the ghost of Carter, whose number you’ve blocked. You’ve created an impossible situation for yourself.”

A wave of adrenaline comes over me. “You’re supposed to be on my side! I told you how we left things. That man has a heart of stone. There’s no way I’m getting in there, so the only solution is to forget about him. It’s hopeless. He’d just ruin me again.”

“So why are you still holding out hope?”

I snort loudly and shake my head. “I’m not. I blocked his number. I’ve gone no communication with him. He’ll be gone from my mind soon enough. It will just take a few more weeks...or months, at worst.”

Lance shrugs. “If you say so.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He heaves a deep sigh, and gets up with the bag of chips. “Look, I’m fine doing relationship talk with you, but you need to at least listen to me. I feel like you’re not hearing one word I’m saying. And you won’t even admit to yourself what you’re really thinking. You’re not over him.”

I frown. “Fine. You want to know what I’m thinking?”

He nods. “Please.” Pausing the show, he turns to me.

Hesitating, I try to be as honest as I can with Lance. I’ve found it difficult to open up about the breakup so far. “I think he’s insecure, and since he and I have an actual connection, he’s scared, for once in his life. He’s not used to being with someone who he might want to truly commit to, and reveal himself to. And yeah, maybe there is some unfinished business between he and his father. There are some dark corners of Carter’s past.” My shoulders sink. “But you’re right. I can’t get him off my mind. No matter what I do.”

Lance pretends like he’s wiping sweat off his brow and shaking it. “So you think about him a lot…but you don’t think you could be with him again?”

“I can’t get over the way he left things with me when I left Chicago. I can’t get over the feeling of humiliation that coursed through me leaving his apartment for the last time. I was damn near in love with him, and he basically kicked me out like I was a one night stand. I felt like a fool.”

He bites into another chip, nodding slowly.

“You want my advice?”

“Yes.”

“Stop analyzing so much. Take advantage of your new freedom, and for the love of God, at least give these guys a shot. Maybe Brandon’s having as tough a time with girls as you are with guys, so he had to take a more systematic approach. Maybe he’s not so bad. And I may or may not have used a spreadsheet back when I was dating around.”

“Are you serious? You did the same thing?”

“I’m type A. I was dating a lot of guys after me and my college boyfriend broke up. Sometimes, you have to put effort in to keep track of them.”

I sigh. “You’re right. I’ve already blocked Carter’s number. I’m going to stop thinking about him, even in the slightest. Starting, now.”

“Perfect.”

Lance resumes Friends, sits back down, and we watch a few episodes until he heads to bed.

As I sit on the couch, an echo of quiet reverberates through our tiny two bedroom apartment for a few seconds, before it’s broken up by the noise of a honking horn in the distance, and a siren.

Oh New York, never a moment of full silence.

Then I hear a buzz on the coffee table and glance down.

It’s an incoming number, marked Private.

Normally, I don’t pick these up. But for some reason, my instinct tells me I need to get this.

“Hello?”

I wait a couple of beats, and hear nothing on the other end of the phone.

“Uh, okay then, I’m going to hang up now.”

And then the voice finally comes, dark and throaty. “Lacy.”

The word sends a chill through me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and giving me goosebumps.

Carter’s voice still has the ability to do that to me, even after all these months of no contact.

“Why are you calling me? I said—“

“I know what you said. This is different..”

“Different?” I seethe. “Unless your heart of stone has magically transformed into a diamond—“

“Diamond is harder than stone anyway,” he says.

“Bad analogy.”

“You made it.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Listen to me Lacy, I need to meet you. There’s something important we need to talk about.”

I pinch my mouth and grind my teeth. Carter thinks when he sees me in person, I’ll be weak.

“You made it clear that you don’t want to be in a relationship with me,” I seethe, my tone laced with anger. “So, I’m going to have to take a pass.”

“Lacy, I’m not messing around,” he continues, equal anger in his voice. “I need you to meet me at—“

I run my thumb across the red button on my phone to hang up. Selecting the number he called me from, I click to block it.

My hand trembles as my phone starts to buzz again, another call from an unknown number.

I slide my finger over the red button to decline the call.

Putting my phone into airplane mode, I fold into the couch.

I am done with Carter.

I don’t care how much he grovels.

It’s over.

I glance at the time on my phone. It’s not eleven yet.

With new reserve, I pad to Lance’s room and rap on the door.

He opens it, sleepy-eyed. “Everything okay?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. And it’s Friday night. Do you want to go to the club?”

“The club? It’s…”

“Not even eleven. The party doesn’t start until midnight. We haven’t been to the club in such a long time.”

He furrows his brow. “It was Carter, wasn’t it.”

I nod.

I squint at him, confused at his hesitation. “We live in New York. The party doesn’t start until after midnight.”

He sighs. “I’ll go, but only if you promise to forget about Carter and give these new guys a chance.”

“I will.”

“Okay. I’ll get my club jeans on. Can you get my pre-club playlist going on the bluetooth?”

“Of course,” I say, and toss on Broken Glass.

I badly want--and need--to move on from Carter. But when I mine the truth deep down in my heart, I can’t stop the feeling that I still care about him.