“Fine, don’t check the app. It’s Nina. Well, technically, it’s Philomena, thanks to my grandmother’s dying wish, but I go by Nina because there’s no way I’m going by Phil.” “Nina…” I swirl the name like it’s a forty-year-old aged whiskey. “Nina, I like it. It fits you.” “Good. I was really on the edge of my seat, wondering if a stranger would like my name.”
