We’d been swapping stories about the things that were currently keeping us up at night—for her, it was her sister. Never any mention of work stuff, though I always assumed she was busy with her next project. For me, anxiety about this launch party had been brewing all week, topped with nerves about the interviews we’d scheduled and worry that it would be some sort of unmitigated social disaster. And then there was my looming Seattle trip, and the stress of trying to expand our business to the opposite coast.

The only thing I wasn’t nervous about was our office itself. Franny had pulled together a space that was warm and inviting. Most importantly, it felt like us. I’d never thought about how much I hated the gray walls of our old space, but now they felt cold and oppressive, and I couldn’t wait to be in this new world of wood, brick, and light all the time. And the best part of all, at least in my opinion, was the garden and the roof deck outside. It didn’t just feel like part of the office; it felt like a space I shared only with Franny. I was going to miss seeing her out there, laughing, hands in the soil, telling me what to do. I was getting ready to say goodbye to her, and then it dawned on me—maybe I didn’t have to.

*  *  *

“Please don’t give me that look,” I said to Eleanor as our Lyft sputtered to a stop in traffic on Eighth Avenue.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, taking a sip of her sparkling water. “You’re just uncharacteristically jumpy today. Are you nervous about the party, or because Franny’s going to be there?”

“How do you know I’m even nervous?” I snarked back, though she was, of course, right. I was nervous about all of it, really. But especially about seeing Franny.

“Well, I invited Serena, in case you want to take your turn dumping her at a party you’re hosting,” she said, a devilish gleam in her eye.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you,” I said, knowing full well she was teasing. “Also, we left things on good terms. I actually did invite her, but she’s out of town.”

“Brave of you,” Eleanor said with an admiring look.

We stepped out in front of our new building, gliding through the lobby and up to the fourth floor, where Tyler was directing people lugging in the trays of charcuterie and cheese we’d ordered from a small catering business deep in Brooklyn.

“Wow,” Eleanor said as she circled the space. “It looks amazing in here.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Tyler said, in full party-planner mode, clipboard in hand as they hovered over a platter full of fruits and vegetables organized like the colors of a rainbow.