My stomach twists, and I rush to the bathroom. After I heave into the toilet, I vow never to eat crazy-roni again. I splash water on my face and return to the living room, feeling surprisingly fresh and lucid, all things considered.

"I'm sorry about that," I say, sitting down next to Kat. "About running off and the thing about your father."

"I never told anyone because when he spotted me catching them in the act, he gave a subtle shake of his head and mouthed No one will believe you."

"And you've spent the rest of your life proving yourself."

A dry laugh escapes Kat's lips. "You should be a therapist."

"Life coach?" I shake my head and wrap my arms around Kat. "I'm so sorry about all that and how you've kept it with you all this time."

"The thing is, my mother knew. They stayed married for appearances-their money and social lives were enmeshed. He took his secret to the grave."

"But you said your mom knew."

"She was too proud to admit it. But I could tell. When he'd go on business trips-that's when we'd do things like make crazy-roni-I'd hear her crying at night. She told me, 'Never trust a man with something as precious as your heart.'"

"Did she say anything about women?" I ask.

"There was that one girl when I was in Bali-" Kat starts. "But I like men, just on a temporary, nightly basis."

"Are you saying they're disposable?"

"Not at all, there are some I hook up with more than once, but it's better to keep my emotions out of it. You could try my methods. See what happens."

I sigh. "I'm not like you."

"No, you're like you, but what's stopping you, Navy?" Her eyes are heavy and my vision blurs, but the various beverages she served me act like truth serum. And someone who is as thoughtful and honest as Katya deserves the truth.

"Remember I said that thing about how my friend Claire Kennely died?" My voice is low, keeping to the safety of the shadows in the room.

She nods.

"It was horrible. Car accident on prom night."

"Drunk driving?" Kat asks. Her face crumbles.

"It was instant." Goosebumps pebble my skin. I've never talked to anyone other than the counselor my parents had me see afterward.

"We were best friends up until a week before prom."

"What happened?"

"I found out that my boyfriend, Zach, was cheating on me."

"Ouch."

"I caught him, actually. He was on the football team; Melanie was on cheer for a rival school. It turned out they'd been hooking up for months after various events involving both teams. We were at a party and I walked in the room where I left my coat. They were naked on top of it."

"You saw them-"

"His naked ass was in the air and-" I shake my head, but that's never worked to erase the image. "I'll never forget."

"Was it a pale ass or a tan, muscular one?"

I whack her with a pillow.

"I need a clearer image. Was he hot? I mean, there's no excuse, but I didn't know you had a high school boyfriend who cheated on you so when I go to track him down, I need to know whose ass I'm looking for."

This wins her a smile even though everything about this story makes me want to rage. "Be right back."

I go to my room and grab my yearbook. When I return, dawn has snuck in, softening the light in the room to lavender gray.

The yearbook falls open to a candid shot of Zach and me as a couple. My head rests on his shoulder. I'm gazing lovingly up at him, and he's staring off in the distance, probably at Melanie or some other girl.

I tap the photo. "I've stared at this for hours, wondering how I didn't know. It seems impossible."

"Of course you didn't know. Usually, cheaters try to keep these things secret."

"No. That's the thing. Everyone knew."

"What do you mean?" Kat asks.

"Zach was Carrick's best friend. Carrick was Claire's brother. Carrick and I were close. He knew. He'd mentioned it to Claire before he left for college. She never told me. No one told me as I went along in my cotton candy, bubble gum cloud of bliss thinking all was well in my little waspy world. Meanwhile, they'd been hooking up for ages. Duh, so had we. I was so mad at Claire for never telling me. Then before we'd even had a chance to make up, Claire died in the accident."

Kat doesn't say anything as I fall apart, tears streaming down my face. My shoulders shudder and she pulls me into a hug.

When I wipe my eyes she says, "Has anyone ever told you this Zach dude is a fool?"

"No, but I've certainly thought worse things."

"Has anyone ever told you that your friends, dead or alive, sorry, God rest her soul, were assholes?"

My tired eyes widen.

"Damn straight I'm speaking ill of the dead. If some douche was cheating on you, you'd better believe I'd make sure you knew that you were too good for him and to cut your losses and maybe I'd cut-"

I shake my head.

"Fools and assholes, Navy, but that's no reason to keep yourself from loving or at least liking again."

She's not wrong, but I keep the rest of the story to myself.

"I'm sorry that happened to you." She gives me another hug and gets to her feet. "Now that we know each other's secrets we should get some sleep."

I close my eyes and as I hear her say, "Goodnight," I pass out.

I don't get nearly enough sleep, but it's Sunday, which means tomorrow is Monday. I don't want to Monday. I'd rather wash dishes, which is what I'm doing when Kat wanders out wearing a T-shirt that says But first, coffee.

"I feel you so hard on that," I say, pointing to her shirt. "But I can't find the pods."

"Maybe the guy down the hall has some to spare."

I raise my eyebrows, "Are you going to ask him, sporting that disheveled hangover look, raccoon eyes, and the faint traces of lip liner? You're hot, but I don't think even you can pull that off. I for one am not setting foot outside this apartment until I don't look like this." I gesture to my bedhead.

"Point taken. I haven't looked in a mirror. I know the coffee is around here somewhere."

After opening and scattering the contents of the several remaining boxes, we still can't find the coffee.

Kat pulls on a hat, wraps a scarf around half her face, and armed with a wad of cash, sets off on a mission to get us coffee.

"I'll keep looking for the pods," I shout as she slams the door. She'll probably meet some hottie and get his number before I find the them.

I sigh, finish the dishes, and then set up my laptop on the center island. I'm tempted to browse puppies, but recalling the conversation from last night about OTPs, I browse lists of fictional lovers that make my heart flutter.

Minutes later, Katya bursts through the doorway bearing coffee. "And to continue our comfort food extravaganza, I brought doughnuts. Look at these. Fruity pebbles on top of this one. Cocoa puffs on that chocolate glazed. They count as breakfast, right?"

"It's lunchtime."

"Brunch, shmunch. See, this one is cheesecake flavored, and I got this Nutella one because, Nutella. Oh my nom."

"I should bring a box of these to the office with me tomorrow. Maybe someone will like me." I point to a pillowy bit of fried dough covered in cinnamon sugar. "What's that one?" I ask, "They guy said it was a churro doughnut."

"The guy?" I ask, plucking the churro doughnut from the box.

She waves a flag of paper in front of me. "My fingers were too frozen to put his number in my phone. I did it old school." She takes a bite of her doughnut and glances at my computer. "Don't tell me you're looking at puppies again. However, I wouldn't be opposed to trying to convince Andre we should be allowed to have a dog next time I see him."

"Who?"

"The leasing agent," she says around a sip of coffee. "If your period has recalibrated itself and you're already having PMS, I'm in trouble. You know what they say about women who live together. Maybe that explains all the comfort food cravings."

"I am not having my period or PMS or puppy fever or cravings. You're the one who brought the doughnuts. I was just doing some research."

She spins the laptop to face her. "Buttercup and Wesley, Daisy and Gatsby? These are some major power couples. I know exactly what kind of research and development you and I need to do."

I peer over her shoulder as she pulls up an online dating website.

"No. No way," I say, shoving my churro doughnut in my mouth.

She's already typing at lightning speed. "What kind of guy do you want?"

I don't answer, but when her stare makes me feel as though nuclear attack is imminent, I say, "Not the human, cheating kind. I prefer my men on paper."

Kat laughs. "Any particular taste in appearance. I'm going to assume you'd prefer he have hair, on his head, not so much on his body. Hmm." She taps her chin. "Vocation? Look," she points, "There are all kinds of filters."

I reach for a doughnut drizzled with chocolate and red velvet crumbs.

"Navy, despite what you told me last night, I'm familiar with the content of the books you read. Actually, reading isn't the right word. Consuming. You devour books. I know you want your heart to heal. We've been friends for nearly a decade. You have the hopeless romantic strain of DNA. I know you do."

This is also true.

"You've journaled about this, right? Your ideal guy and being in a relationship..."

Guilty.

"Vision boards..."

I don't answer.

"Affirmations?"

I take another bite of doughnut and shrug.

"So, we're doing R&D. I'm not suggesting you meet any of the men that pop up, though it's not a bad idea. Look at this guy. Mmm. Delicious."

"Kat, you should make a profile."

"Unnecessary. I know what my needs are. Where was I? Oh right, you. Maybe if you considered what you'd like in a relationship, you'd be more apt to take chances because you might find the one."

My vision blurs with liquid.

"Navy Catherine Carrington. Yes, Zach broke your heart, but you cannot give him that kind of power. You're letting something that happened in high school make you miserable now. I had my heart broken senior year. In junior year, I had such bad acne I wouldn't leave the house. Sophomore year I failed a class. And freshman year? Don't even get me started on why I didn't make the cheer team."

"You've never let any of it stop you," I say, thinking of her long roster of accomplishments.

"Hell no. I use setbacks and speedbumps for fuel. You can't expect to love without it sometimes hurting. That's part of life. Like they say, a broken heart tells you that you once loved and that's a pretty special thing. But it's time to move on. You with me?"

I set the doughnut down, my heart beating out a rough rhythm of uncertainty.

"It's time to figure out who Navy, the most eligible woman in Manhattan, really is and what she wants."

Chapter 7.

Peacocks and Pigeons Even though I have no intention of dating anyone that appears on the profile, I indulge Katya as she rifles off questions about my so-called dating desires.

"Do you want him to share your interests? Books for instance? Maybe the two of you could get hot and heavy reading smut." She moans dramatically. "Ooh, his slick manhood something-something penetrates something-something the flowering folds of her core."

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to keep from laughing. "No, no! I don't read those kinds of romance novels and I don't only read romance novels."

"Check this out. This guy blogs about his dating life as though he was on the Bachelor. Is that a turn off or should we see if you fit his criteria? I saw you were online reading about getting back in the dating game..."