“Amanda, stop. You’re human and this sucks. Forget all the people who want to tell me, every damn day, that I’m not half Mexican because I don’t look it. If you want I can show you all the awful things people said about me when we announced our engagement. Some woman sent Ignacio pictures of her nieces from Guatemala begging him to consider a woman from his home country instead of me. Then some ashy-ass dude actually said I was erasing the progress of the entire race for not marrying a Black man.”

“If I’d known I contained so much power,” Ignacio said, shrugging. “Everyone is going to have their opinion, but it’s what you and Sam want that matters. What can we do?”

“Yeah. We can reach out to People and at least ask them to do something.” Helene picked up her own phone. “My girl over there loves positive spin and a fresh love story. I am not above calling in favors.”

“Just let me curl up in a ball and die.”

“No can do. Let us help you.”

Amanda ran her hands over her face and cupped her chin. She loved Helene so much and she never wanted to make her think that their friendship was about anything other than how well they got along and how much Amanda enjoyed her bright, loving company. “This is plenty. Just letting me come over. I mean, you guys just got back from your honeymoon and I just busted up into your house with my drama. Let me get out of your hair.” She’d started to stand up when Helen fixed her with a look that could burn a hole in the detailed crown molding high above their heads.

“Where do you have to be?”

“Nowhere. I’m just all up in your—”

“Nah, park it.”

“Helene.”

“I’m serious. Stay as long as you like. This one might be itching to get back to work, but I’m off the hook for at least another week. You sit here with me and watch awful TV and eat amazing food and figure out how to stop me from driving over to Dru’s house right now so I can throw her off her balcony.”

“She doesn’t have a balcony.”

“Shame.” Helene reached across the table and took her hand. “Let me help you. What do you want? What do you need? Tell us and we’ll see what we can do. What’s the point of friends with connections and more money than the pope if they can’t help you out?”

“I mean, friendship is the point,” Amanda said as Helene immediately rolled her eyes. She knew she wasn’t going to slink back to her hole of sadness and eventual poverty, not right away. Helene wouldn’t let her, not without a fight and what some might consider out-and-out nagging. She looked at her amazing friend and her equally amazing husband.