I add the empty wine bottle to the pile that’s steadily accumulating by the front door, where they’re waiting to be brought down to the building’s recycling bins.

I haven’t left the apartment in four days now, except once to go to the bodega on the corner to stock up on frozen pizza pockets and more wine. Ally’s been the one keeping us on track, actually making it to the grocery store and making sure I ate at least one serving of vegetables a day. I’m grateful for her attentiveness, but it’s just another way I feel guilty for making her life harder.

I wander back into the kitchen and start pulling things out of the cupboard — flour, sugar, baking powder, vanilla. So far baking is the one thing keeping me sane, but Ally and I can’t keep up with the amount I’m making. I actually dropped some cupcakes off at one of our neighbors’ last night but they looked at me as if I was secretly trying to poison them.

Ally wheels in and realizes what I’m doing.

“No more cupcakes,” she pleads. “I haven’t slept in two days thanks to crazy sugar highs.”

“I’m sorry,” I shrug, roughly cracking open an egg and letting it slide into the bowl. “I need something to take my mind off all this stuff.”

“So you still haven’t talked to him?”

“Nope. And I’m not going to.”

Ally bites her lip and nudges her chair in closer. “You know, he did seem really apologetic when he was here the other day.”

“Well, that’s Trent. He can make you think whatever he wants.” After all, he made me think he was falling in love with me, I think bitterly.

I still couldn’t believe how badly everything got fucked up. We had been so happy up until a couple of weeks ago. In fact, I was starting to think this could actually be something real. That this might be the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

And then the launch party had happened. And then somehow he was kissing his ex, I was out of a job, Loft & Barn was supposedly on the verge of bankruptcy, and Trent was accusing me of airing the company’s dirty laundry to the Post. It would almost be laughable if it didn’t hurt so damn much.

I stir the batter roughly, then dump in some canned pineapple for a little variety. Hey, pineapple cupcakes are basically a serving of fruit, right?

Ally pulls her chair up to the table and opens up a notebook she’d been working in earlier.

“I don’t know if this is the best time to talk to you about this,” she says hesitantly. “But maybe there is no good time, so…”

“Just tell me,” I snap, more brusquely than I mean to. I pause my stirring and turn to face her. “I’m sorry. What’s up?”

“Well, I’ve been working on the math.” She bites her lip and looks down at the notebook. “If we keep spending as we currently do, we can make it for about three months on our savings. If we cut back significantly on miscellaneous expenses, cut out cable and maybe the landline, drop down to one shared cell phone, we could probably do about six.”

I turn back to the batter, stirring it distractedly. My stomach is twisting into knots. “That’s it?”

“Yup.”

“Damn.”

Tears start to prick my eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I fucked everything up. You must hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Ally says immediately. “Was it the best idea to sleep with your boss? Maybe not. But you’ve been working so hard for so long — you gave up so much to help me. I don’t blame you for wanting to follow your heart for once. I just wish it had worked out better.”

I give a bitter laugh. “Yeah, me too.”

I start pouring the batter into the lined muffin tins while Ally and I discuss other cost-saving measures. Hopefully it won’t come to that — I have enough retail experience that I’m really hoping I can land something in the next few weeks — but it feels good to have a plan nonetheless. And it feels good to be working on with Ally, as a team.

I’m just throwing the muffin tins into the oven when the door buzzes.

Ally and I look at each other.

“Are you expecting anyone?” I ask her.

She raises her eyebrows. “Who would I be expecting?” she says sarcastically. “Are you?”

“Same,” I say, equally sarcastically. “Do you mind getting it? I’m going to rinse out these bowls.”

“Sure.” She heads over to the door and hits the intercom button. It’s so loud that I can hear it crackle even from in the kitchen.

“Hello?” Ally says, into the speaker.

“It’s Trent.” Even through the intercom the voice is unmistakable. My stomach does a triple summersault. “Is Hannah there?”

Ally looks over at me, eyes wide. “Should I let him up?”

“No!” I shake my head frantically.

She turns back to the intercom. “She’s not here right now, Trent, sorry.”

There’s a pause and then another crackle. “You left the intercom on. I heard you ask her if you should let me up.”

Ally looks at me again, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

I throw my hands up. “Fine. I’ll tell him in person that I don’t want to talk to him.”

There’s another crackle. “I heard that too,” Trent says.

Instead of replying, Ally just hits the buzzer, which unlocks the door downstairs. A couple of very short minutes later, there’s a knock on our apartment door.

By this time my stomach has twisted itself into a mess of knots. Ally heads to her bedroom to give us some privacy, and I take a deep breath and pull open the front door.

I suck in my breath as soon as I see him. He looks as handsome as ever. He must have come from work because he’s wearing a black suit, a crisp white button-down, and a red striped tie. His presence in my doorway makes my legs feel weak, and there’s a small, weak part of me that wants to simply throw myself into his arms and let him kiss all of this heartache away.

His face brightens as soon as he sees me, but it doesn’t hide the fact that his eyes have dark circles around them, and lines crease the sides of his mouth.

To be perfectly honest, he looks as bad as I feel. The thought makes me feel strangely satisfied and also sad as hell.

“What do you want?” I ask, folding my arms. I refuse to let my mushy heart get the better of me. I need to be strong.

“I’ve been trying to call you.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to apologize. For all of it. For Lara, for not believing you about the Post thing, for letting you lose your job after I promised you you wouldn’t.”

“That’s a long list of things, Trent. Why should I forgive you for any of them?”

It’s so hard to stand there in front of him, but I force myself to do it. I force myself to stay strong even though the heat of his body across from me is making me feel wobbly. It’s amazing I can keep breathing when he’s around, because he seems to just burn away all the oxygen in the room.

“Because I’m an idiot,” he says, with a half grin. “But at least I know it?”

I find I’m smiling a little despite myself. I don’t want to be charmed by him. I don’t. But he makes it so damn difficult.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he says. “But I came to give you this.” He pulls a slick notecard out of the pocket of his suit jacket and hands it to me.

“What is this?” I don’t make any motion to take it from him.

“It’s an invitation,” he says. “Take it.”

My heart is hammering in my throat as I slowly unfold my arms and reach out to take the card he’s holding. Our fingers briefly touch and a jolt of equal parts lust and heartache go coursing through me.

I busy myself by looking at the invitation, so that I don’t have to look at him. I read the text in confusion.

“A launch party? You already had the Loft & Barn launch for this season.”

“We’re having another one.”

“Why?”

“Just come and you’ll see.”

I hold the invitation gingerly, as if it might turn to dust in my hands. Trent sees my hesitation.

“You don’t have to be my date or anything. Just come. And bring Ally. There’s something I want her to see too.”

Now I look up in interest. Something he wants Ally to see?

“Ah, see, now you’re intrigued.” Trent grins, and the sight of it sets my heart to flutter again.

“Okay,” I admit. “I’m a little intrigued.”

“Good. That means you’re more likely to come, right?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good. But don’t think too hard, okay? Go with your heart on this one.”

With that, he leans in and lets his lips graze against mine. I’m too surprised to push him away and instead I let his lips linger there, soft against me, so perfect and right and messy and complicated.

He pulls away before I can decide whether or not I want to push him away. He disappears down the hallway towards the elevator and I stand there in the doorway, touching my lips and wondering what the hell I’m going to do now.