“I’m scared,” Olivia admitted, and swallowed her cake. “Damn, that is good.”

Rebecca set the soiled napkins aside. “Switching from friends to lovers is a big deal.”

“You did this with Nick.” Olivia chewed thoughtfully. Rebecca had been her boyfriend Nick’s assistant before they’d become lovers. “Were you nervous?”

“Oh, yeah. He’d been my boss for three years, and as frustrating as that dynamic was, it was safe.”

“But he wasn’t your boss when you got together,” Sadie pointed out. “By that point, you pretty much had nothing to lose.”

“True,” Rebecca conceded. “I’d already hit my breaking point, so it was probably a little easier for me to set fire to my bridges.”

“This metaphor is confusing,” Sadie complained, then smirked. “Or is it a simile?”

“My choices were more cut and dried,” Rebecca went on, flipping Sadie the bird and ignoring the resulting snickers. “I’d already quit my job, and we didn’t share a social circle. If things didn’t work out, I could make a clean break. I wouldn’t run into him at parties, wouldn’t see him at work. I had a scorched-earth option that’s not available to you.”

“I know. That’s what scares me.” Olivia drew a deep breath. “But…”

“But?” Sadie prompted.

“But I feel like we could be good together, too,” Olivia said slowly. “Like, dream-come-true, happily-ever-after good. And not trying scares me a lot more than having to see him at a party if it doesn’t work out.”

Sadie let out a cheer, and Amanda murmured, “Atta girl,” and gave her an encouraging squeeze.

Sadie beamed and lifted her glass of milk. “To Olivia, a brave bitch.”

Olivia laughed as Rebecca and Amanda echoed the cheer. “Y’all are the best. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” Amanda said, giving Olivia in a one-armed hug.

“But if you want to, I wouldn’t mind hearing the details,” Sadie put in, waggling her eyebrows in an exaggerated leer.

Olivia laughed. “Deal.”

* * * *

Olivia sat at the kitchen counter the next afternoon, one eye on the clock. It was a few minutes before four, and she was so on edge she was about to jump out of her skin.

She’d come home from her coffee shop support group on Saturday afternoon to a quiet house. True to his word, Cade had stayed out late, and she’d used the time to finish unpacking her clothes. She’d considered starting on the boxes that still sat in the dining room, but thought better of it. She didn’t know if she was going to be staying, and she didn’t want to make assumptions.