I squeeze her shoulder. “You can count on me, Josie. I’ve got a year-long contract at Mercy, so I’m not skipping town. And besides, you’re saving me, so we’re totally even.”

“Good. I need you for even more than your talented mouth now,” she says, and I blink and stare at her, trying to figure out if she’s even aware of the innuendo that just spilled from her pretty lips. But she’s about to be.

I wiggle my eyebrows. “My mouth is damn talented. And did you know my tongue has amazing stamina?”

Rolling her eyes, she chuckles. “I deserved that. I left you no choice but to go there.”

I nod. “You can’t say things like that and expect me not to comment.”

“Oh, believe you me, I know about your level of dirty commentary, and it’s a damn good thing I find it amusing. And all your naughty comments are making me forget the tips and guidelines for roommate compatibility that I’m supposed to review.” She stops in front of a tall stone church with a slate gray exterior, gazing up at the vast New York sky, a rare cloudless blue this evening as the sun dips toward the horizon. She looks as if she’s contemplating something, but then she shrugs happily. “I had this whole list of questions to ask potential roommates, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. I know we’re compatible.”

I hold my arms out wide. “I’m easy. What you see is what you get.”

“You know I love that about you,” she says as we resume our pace across town.

We’ve known each other for years, and Josie and I hit it off from day one. When I visited her parents’ home in New York City with Wyatt during my junior year of college, we clicked instantly. The first time I walked through the door of the family’s brownstone on the Upper West Side, she didn’t even hesitate to throw her arms around me and welcome me into the home. After that embrace, she thrust a plate of mini cupcakes at me, and the rest was history.

She was home from college at the same time as I was, and one of the reasons we got along so well is we’re close in age. I skipped two grades as a kid, so I wound up starting college at sixteen. Wyatt and I were in the same graduating class at school, but he’s two years older. Anyway, I went on to spend many weekends at Wyatt’s home since my folks live outside Seattle and I attended school near Manhattan. Along with Wyatt’s twin brother, Nick, we all hung out together on those long weekends, watching movies and traipsing around the city checking out bands and visiting—ironically, of course—tourist traps like the wax museum in Times Square to photobomb as many pictures as possible.

At the clubs, Nick and Wyatt gave Josie and me a hard time because we weren’t old enough to drink. In our favor, though, we discovered we made a powerful Scrabble team, and we crushed the Hammer twins in our games. I knew the killer science words like “dyspnea” and “zygosity,” and Josie, the lit major, slayed it with her all-around love of words, including her mastery of the two-letter Scrabble ones. We destroyed those fuckers one night in a nine-letter game with a one-two punch of “diplococci” and “Qi.”

The prize?

They had to go out and buy us beer. Victory had never tasted so good.

Funny that even though Wyatt’s my buddy, I’ve managed to become close friends with his sister, too. Probably helps that Wyatt knows there’s nothing cooking between Josie and me. Hell, how else do you explain being friends with a girl this long? Obviously, I don’t want her.

Besides, I’ve been there and learned the hard way that getting into a relationship with a woman you’re friends with can only end in heartbreak. Thank you, Adele, for that little lesson. I won’t go there again. Ever.

When we reach Fifth Avenue, Josie clears her throat, returning me to the moment. “But there is one thing I want to ask from my list of roommate questions.”

“Hit me with it.”

“What’s your romantic situation? That’s just something that’s good to know for two people about to live together, don’t you think?”

Her eyes meet mine. The question strikes me as odd. Doesn’t she know my romantic situation? “I’m not involved with anyone. But you knew that.”

She holds up her hands, almost defensively. “I didn’t want to assume anything. You might have met a pretty young thing last night,” she says lightly.

I laugh. “Nope. Last night I rode twenty-five miles with Max after work. Prep for the century we’re doing at the end of the summer.” I raise my chin toward her, then something sticks in my throat as I force out, “Are you? Involved with someone romantically?”

Why does it sound like I’m croaking? And why am I clenching my fists, hoping to hell she’ll say no?

She shakes her head as we cross the avenue and head toward her pad. I haven’t seen her place before, but I know where she lives in the city. She moved when I was in Africa. “Nope.”

I breathe a strange sigh of relief. Then I tell myself it’s just easier if whoever I live with is unentangled. Significant others can be ballbreakers, no matter the gender. “Cool,” I say, keeping my tone light.

“But I’ve started online dating.”

My stomach twists. “Why would you do that?”

She gives me a look as if I’m crazy for asking. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m twenty-eight and single in the city. I wouldn’t mind meeting a nice guy.”

“And you think you’ll meet him online? A pretty young thing?”