The rumors (and very intense marketing campaign) are true: Aidan Shaw returns. He not only answers Carrie’s “Hey stranger” email with a “What’s up?” (these two ex-fiancés haven’t seen each other in 13 years, but sure, “What’s up?” is cool) but also suggests they get dinner one night while he’s in town, and that night just so happens to be Valentine’s Day. Charlotte can barely contain herself when she hears the news. In her mind, that means either Aidan knows it is Valentine’s Day, which makes this a super-romantic date, or he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day, signaling that he is currently single because no man can retain the fact that February 14 is Valentine’s Day nor read a calendar unless they are in a relationship. The logic here feels flawed, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.

Carrie is nervous leading up to the big day, worried that too much time has passed or not enough time has passed, and she almost talks herself out of it. But our girl gets herself seated at that table, waiting for her one-time great love, owner of a perfect snuggle nook. And then a half-hour passes and he doesn’t show. But don’t fear — it’s just AJLT being a tease. Finally, Aidan texts, and it turns out Carrie’s at the wrong restaurant — he’s next door. I guess restaurants don’t have names anymore. Wild. They meet out on the sidewalk and take each other in. Aidan’s coat is so tight it makes his “come hug me” arm gesture so awkward and infantilizing, and I would like to erase it from my mind henceforth. Yet the moment they embrace, I’m immediately swept back up in Carrie and Aidan. Listen, friends, I will fully admit that whenever these two are in a good spot there’s like a magic spell that comes over me, much like with the couple themselves, and I only remember how great they could be together. The memories of each of them treating the other like shit at various times do not exist. I know this is bad, but I do not care. Carrie and Aidan have an undeniable spark. Carrie and Aidan are not a good match.

Their dinner together feels easy and right, and it goes so well that Carrie invites Aidan back to her place to keep it going. When the cab pulls up and Aidan realizes Carrie still lives in the same apartment as she did when they were together, he can’t even bring himself to walk up the steps. There’s too much history up there. Aidan’s haunted by those memories of trying to renovate that place and the way it ended in disaster, memories of “the wall [he] couldn’t break through.” He tells Carrie he couldn’t believe how incredible the night had felt. It was as if they were back where they started, but he realizes that really, “this is where we ended.” He can’t go inside that place again. Carrie tries to reason with him — saying that things weren’t all bad, that there are good memories too — but it’s too much. “I guess time doesn’t heal everything, no matter how much you want it to,” she tells him, letting him go again. But just as Aidan turns his back to leave, he changes his mind: “Hey, fuck it. This is New York. They have hotels, right?” he says before pulling her in for a big, swoony makeout. See what I mean about ignoring all the bad stuff? Don’t tell me you’re not doing it too. That kiss was romantic as hell!

I’d be surprised if And Just Like That … saddles Carrie with a permanent love interest at this point in the game, so what are we doing here tossing Carrie and Aidan back into each other’s lives and beds? Aidan lives in Virginia and has kids; I don’t think he’s moving to NYC anytime soon. Will this just be an opportunity for these two to end things without hurting each other? Will it open the door to something more permanent in the future? Or will we all be duped one last time?