Jynelle came back from her date like she’d just testified at an international tribunal. She flung open the door and pointed at me like I was the one who needed debriefing. I was sitting on the floor with expired pizza, my hair in a claw clip that had given up two hours ago, and tears still drying on my face from the last ten-minute spiral about Jack maybe being too emotionally functional.
“Sit down,” she said.
“I am.”
“Not spiritually.”
She peeled off her coat like it had been heavy with secrets and kicked off her heels with a grunt. Then she paced. She paced like she had to report to the government. Her earrings were still swinging when she said, “First of all... he ordered truffle fries. So clearly he wanted to see me exposed.”
I blinked at her and blinked again. My brain was still
