It was safe to say that Susan did not have the healthiest relationship with sleep. Last night, it had reached a new low as she plummeted into a fractured reality, with Beebz and Madeleine face-swapping with Esther and Daisy, McGraw’s voice asking over and over, “Are they going to sign a contract, too?” mixed through with lucid recollections that she wished were dreams and also, horrendously, more vomiting.

When she woke, fully and finally and mercifully restored to something like health, Susan knew that there was worse to come, and it had nothing to do with the aftereffects of the tapas platter. Or seven neat whiskies.

“Susan?” There was a knock on the door before Daisy pushed it open and, seeing that the inhabitant was conscious, tiptoed across the room. She opened the window and lay a plate of toast and a cup of black coffee on the bedside table. “You should eat.”

“Thank you,” Susan whispered, not able to meet her eyes.

The silent reproach that flooded into the room after Daisy left was suffocating. After a restorative shower, a change of clothes, another round of toast and coffee, and a short stroll, Susan paused outside Esther’s door and listened to the murmur of conversation within before knocking and entering. Esther and Daisy were sitting on the bed, caught in a tableau of what looked like a game of gin rummy.

“Hi,” Susan said.

“How are you feeling?” Daisy asked gently, setting her cards down.

“Terrible.”

“Do you want me to make you something?” Daisy was already half off the bed when Susan raised a hand to stop her.

“Not that sort of terrible.” God. This was hard. “I feel bad about what happened yesterday.”

“You mean blowing us off to go and hang out with your real friends?” Esther’s words stung.

“Yes. That.”

The two of them were looking at her expectantly, but when Susan remained silent a moment too long, Esther spoke. “Are you ashamed of us or something?”

“Of course not.” But her protest had no effect on either of their expressions. “The only thing I’m ashamed of is me.”

Humility. It hurt.

“Go on,” Esther said.

“Look. I just—I didn’t plan for my friends to come here. It was a surprise visit, and . . . I panicked.”

“Why?” asked Daisy, her voice, her expression a little softer than Esther’s.

“I’m just not ready for things to . . .” She meshed her fingers together. “Mix. You know?”

Daisy glanced at Esther, then said, “I’m not sure we do.”

Closing her eyes, Susan tried to put words to something that she’d never tried to make sense of. Opening them again, she knew that if they didn’t understand what she said now, there’d never be a way to explain it.