Wren arrived on a Friday with two suitcases and a box of books that Jake complained about immediately.

"You said one bag," he said, looking at the pile in the hallway.

"I said approximately one bag," she said. "The books are non-negotiable."

"Where are they going to go? Ace and I don't have—"

"I'll figure it out." She pushed past him into the flat and stopped.

It was bigger than she expected. Jake had moved in eight months ago and she had not visited yet — distance, finishing her dissertation, the specific inertia of being busy — and she had been picturing something small and slightly grim. This was neither....