Maya is, I’m sorry to note, picking at her salad when she makes eye contact with me and laughs. “What?” I say, and she says, “Remember when Jamie and I were first dating? When you liked my Instagram post?” I slap my own forehead. He had told me about her—they’d met at a party—and I’d been stalking a little and accidentally hearted something. “Oh my god!” I said to Willa, who was lying in bed next to me. “I just liked Jamie’s sort-of new girlfriend’s photo of a crab cake.” “No, no, no,” she said, and grabbed my hand. She was laughing. “Mama. Mom. Don’t. No, no! Don’t unlike it now.
lol
