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“I’ll listen to them when I get home,” I promise.

“She also says I can give the male perspective.”

My mouth twitches. “You can?”

He takes a deep breath, like this is physically painful for him. “Men are idiots,” he says.

“Mmhmm,” I reply. “I’m listening.” Derrick doesn’t do girl talk. He mends things and stays silent, so I’m a tad curious.

“But we’re also very obvious idiots,” he continues. “If a guy invites you to his place, he cares about you. Trust me, we don’t introduce women to our families unless they mean something.”

I say nothing, because I don’t think I can cope with the little flash of hope his words are in danger of creating.

“And on top of that,” he says, “we’re also very stupid idiots. Because sometimes when someone means a lot to us, we don’t realize it until it’s too late.”

“That’s good to know,” I tell him. “But I don’t think this is going to work. I’m completely wrong for him. Or his family at least.”

“That’s not true,” Jen says. I assume she’s snatched the phone back from him.

“You know you could put me on speaker.”

She huffs. “Okay, you’re on speaker now. And it’s not true,” she continues. “You were right for him. You are right for him. It’s just that for some stupid reason you don’t think you’re good enough.”

I push the door of the bodega open, preparing myself for an uncaffeinated shop.

“Of course I think I’m good enough.”

“Jen’s right, you know,” Derrick says.

“I thought we established you’re an idiot,” I mutter.

He laughs. “I’m serious, G. You need to listen to what he has to say. I bet he’s the one who doesn’t think he’s good enough for you. And he’s right. You’ve got to stop doubting yourself. You’re clever, you’re funny, you’re beautiful. And if Jen and I ever die we need you to step up and take care of our goldfish.”

I start pulling random items off the shelf and throwing them into the basket, not really looking at what I’m buying. “You shouldn’t trust me with anything.”

“Oh baby, we trust you with everything. You’re our girl. You’re the best.”

My bottom lip starts to wobble. “I’m scared,” I admit.

“I know you are. But you’re also a strong, independent woman with your own apartment, your own job, and you just flew home on a private jet because that’s how you roll. I’m going to hang up. Listen to it, sweet pea. You’ve got this.”

The connection ends with a click.

I stare at my phone for a moment. Then I jab at the screen, pulling up the first voicemail from last night before I can change my mind. Halfway down the aisle two carts slam into each other. The recorded voice tells me I have three new voicemails as I brace myself for the cart owners to start screeching at each other.

But instead, they start to laugh.

“To listen to your message, press three.”

My thumb hovers over the keypad. Then I bite my lip and press it, closing my eyes as Theo’s voice fills my ear.

“Georgia. It’s me. I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now. And I can’t blame you.”

There’s a pause.

“I handled things badly tonight. I should have stood up for you more. And I certainly should have put my effort into taking care of you, and not my family. I hate myself for letting you think for a moment that I don’t care about you. I should have fought for you, I know that. And if it helps, I’m fucking furious with myself.”

He’s silent for a second.