Viola looked at her sideways, eyeing her with disapproval. “Why do you not?”

Rainy laughed. “Touché.”

Braithe seated herself on the last empty bar stool, her glass of white wine in front of her. To her left was Tara Hessler, her right-hand woman and main lady-in-waiting. Tara was a little flushed tonight, her creamy skin rosy with anticipation. She was, in Rainy’s opinion, a social scavenger, but a smooth one. She needed to be the prettiest girl in the room, but that was Braithe, so she settled for a close second. Tara adorned Braithe like an unnecessary tiara. Rainy avoided having close friendships for that reason: the last thing she wanted was costume-jewelry friendship. She didn’t have time for that. Codependency sucked up large chunks of time.

Rainy, being the newest to the group, was always pelted with questions when she showed up to happy hour. It was like they were trying to fast-track her into their group with these little Q and As.

“The new-girl novelty will wear off soon and they’ll stop hounding you.” It was a promise Viola made to her a year ago when Rainy moved to Washington. They wanted to know who she hung out with in New York—a handful of close artist friends from college. Who she dated before Grant—two art students and a gallery owner, nothing serious. Where were her parents? Dead. Did she miss the city? Yes and no. She liked the solitude and vast openness of Washington. And finally, the most painful question of them all—was she going to marry Grant? Viola had called them out after that, told them to stop being nosy.

Rainy did not want to play house for the next ten years—she did want to marry Grant—but she also had no intention of talking to them about it. He was the only man she’d ever felt this way about, unless she decided to hold these little happy hours against him.

“Get to know some people, this is your new home,” he’d said.

“What people?” she’d argued stubbornly. “You are my people.”

“Friends,” he’d said. “Friends are good, friends are healthy.”

Ursa, in a pink silk top and jeans, was lip-synching along with Braithe’s playlist, forcing Mac to be her audience. She got right up in Mac’s face as she sang, “You make me, make me, make me want to cry!” Mac giggled and shoved her away; undeterred, Ursa began grinding against Tara on her other side. She paused her dancing to point a finger at Rainy and wink.

Viola laughed from beside her. “She is on tonight.”