Nicole thought back to the night before. And she thought about what she knew about Milly. “The thing I forgot,” she said slowly, “is that Milly has an almost visceral fear of being abandoned. I suppose it started when her dad left. Loyalty is everything to her. Being able to depend on someone. Trust them. I knew that, and yet somehow I forgot it. I was focused only on myself.”

“And that’s understandable too. No one gets it right all the time, Nicole.” He used her name for the first time. “We’re not puppets. We bring our own life experiences and beliefs to every interaction, and what seems right to one person might be wrong to another. I think Milly will realize that when she has had time to reflect. Where did she go, anyway?”

“She went to stay with Connie.”

“Well, there you go.” He pushed his plate away. “Connie will help her figure it out. She’s the wisest person I know. And if you don’t want to go back to the boathouse, you can stay here. Make yourself at home in my spare room until you figure out what you want to do.”

The offer overwhelmed her. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay your kindness.”

“Friendship isn’t transactional,” he said. “No payment required.”

She realized that, for her, friendship had always been transactional, apart from her relationship with Milly.

“I kept you awake for most of the night, and you’ll be going to work soon. You must be exhausted.”

“Nothing that strong coffee won’t fix.” He stood up and made them both coffee. “Do you love being an actor? Do you still enjoy it?”

She watched as he made two espressos and then foamed milk. She thought about how much fun she’d had rehearsing with Zoe. “I love acting. I hate the movie business. Not the same thing.”

“Have you considered giving it up?”

“I think that decision may have been taken out of my hands. The movie business seems to have given me up.” But she knew what he was asking. “Acting was my dream. And I wanted to be good at it. The best. I wanted to be famous.” That was before she’d known what fame meant. What it brought with it.

“Because you wanted to make your mother proud. Prove that you were good at something.” He put the coffee on the table and sat down opposite her. “That was something else you told me last night.”

“That hasn’t happened, and I’ve accepted that it never will. I’m just the wrong daughter for her. Square peg, round hole and all that. Maybe if I’d been a scientist or a mathematician . . .” She took a sip of coffee.