“That’s...an offer,” was my reply. Just when I thought I couldn’t fall any further, another floor collapsed from underneath me. At the very bottom, the Florida Panhandle.

“You won’t steal Daisy from me without a fight,” said Miles.

“Pistols or swords?” asked Hopkins.

“Fists,” said Miles, droll, and I could’ve hugged him.

Another burst of laughter from Hopkins that could likely be heard across the ballroom. “Just think about it,” he said to me, then clapped Miles on the back. My humiliation complete, Hopkins guided the conversation between proposed regulatory changes and his recent colonoscopy. “The doctor told me I was full of shit!” he said to only polite, perfunctory laughter. Miles met the eyes of L.K. and Bo, then excused himself to make the rounds. Miles gone, Hopkins also departed, and we shuffled closer to each other.

“The balls on that guy,” L.K. said. “You’re not working for him, Daisy.”

“I’m working for Miles,” I said reflexively.

“I mean—if,” she replied.

That word—if—crash-landed in the center of our group. I gawped at it. We all seemed to. My wine was warm and fruitless, but I finished it anyway. “I need another drink.”

“Do they have your brand of chardonnay at this bar?” asked L.K.

I turned to her. “You know my brand?”

“Babe, we know your brand of tampons,” L.K. said, threading her arm through mine. “Of course we know your drink of choice.”

“I miss you guys,” I said as I tracked Miles across the room, wondering if I’d get another chance to speak with him.

Bo nodded. “We miss you, too,” he said.

“Before you all arrived,” Cricket said gaily, encouraging us to shake off our somber faces, “I was about to encourage Daisy to mix and mingle.”

“I’m happy to help,” Bo said. “As the resident cool kid of the group, I can give Daisy some pointers. I take payment in the form of bourbon, which I need about a gallon of to make it through this party.”

“Cool kid? You recently sent an email to everyone about the Oxford comma,” L.K. said.

“The Oxford comma is what separates us from the uncivilized masses. I stand by that email.”

“When I’m back, I’m going to leave an extra space after all my periods,” I said. “Just to tick you off.”

“I see Wallis,” L.K. said, craning her neck to the right. “God, she looks so pretty. I wish I had that rack. Sorry, Miss Cricket.”

“Jesus, L.K.,” said Bo. Talking about tampons was fine, but apparently he drew the line at my sister’s breasts. I think I saw him blush.

“No apology necessary,” said Cricket.

“I’m just saying,” said L.K. “Whenever the trolls start mouthing off about ugly feminists, let’s just jangle Wallis around, like keys in front of a baby. That will shut them up for about two seconds.”