“Can we change the subject?” said Laura, mortified. She could feel a painful tightness in her chest she thought she’d left behind in New York, but here it was, making its Los Angeles debut. Step right up, folks, and see the giant embarrassed lady.

The front door opened and closed, and Libby and Anna walked in.

“Ooh,” said Anna, seeing the small crowd. “A party! How exciting. What are we celebrating?”

“Me,” said Nick shamelessly. He stood up and extended his hand, applying his one-hundred-watt smile. “We didn’t get properly introduced last night. I’m Nick, I’m Laura’s fiancé, newly arrived in the beautiful City of Angels.” He smiled at Anna, who dimpled. “I see the tourism board wasn’t kidding.”

Libby frowned and looked at Anna, who wasn’t looking at him at all.

“Hi,” she said, blushing slightly at the compliment. Inwardly, Laura rolled her eyes. Yes, Nick was tall and handsome and charming and smart and funny, but he was also a massive pain in the ass, and it drove her up the wall that everybody fell for his bullshit and encouraged her to put up with it, too.

“Ex-fiancé,” she said loudly, aware she sounded petty, but it wasn’t a minor distinction. Being engaged was binary; you were or you weren’t. Furthermore, Nick wasn’t a vague person, he was a scientist: He was using the power of presumption to influence her behavior, and it wasn’t going to work and was seriously pissing her off.

“Laura,” said Maggie, “can you come and give me a hand?”

“Gladly,” said Laura.

“I’m actually fine,” said Maggie, lowering her voice as Laura approached. “Is Asher still talking to Madeleine?” She handed Laura a tomato and a paring knife, as cover.

Laura waited a second, then risked a glance. Asher and Madeleine were standing against a run of low cupboards, close to each other, their voices quiet.

“Yes,” she said.

Maggie sliced the steak against the grain, with firm, even strokes. “And does he look like a sick calf?”

Laura frowned. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what that looks like.”

Maggie made an impatient noise. “Does he look like he normally does? Alert? Amused? Intelligent?”

Laura looked and was surprised. “No, actually. That’s weird. He looks . . . mildly unwell.”

“Pink cheeked?”

Laura nodded.

Maggie made a clucking noise. “Eyebrows slightly drawn? Mouth open wide enough to insert a slice of toast?”

Laura looked at Maggie and raised her own eyebrows. “That’s strangely specific, but yes, as it happens. Not a big slice.”

“A regular slice.”

Laura looked again. “Sure.”

“What’s he doing with his hands?”

Laura smothered a giggle. “They’re clasped in front of him, it’s actually very cute.”

Maggie put down the knife and held her hands in front of her chest, as if she were a six-year-old flower girl unsteadily proceeding down the aisle. “Like that?”

Laura nodded.