Val leans back, folding her arms to her chest. “I know I’m the one who told you to go with the flow, but will you be okay when it all ends? You’ve been spending a lot of time with her recently.”

“Right,” Kiara says. “You seem to really like her, Gemma. And you’re so happy with her! This doesn’t have to be the end end, right? I mean, your parents live in SoCal, too! Maybe you two can do long distance!”

“Yeah,” I reply. “But I don’t think Celeste has any interest in continuing this. Or at least, that’s the impression I got from what she’s been saying.”

Val and Kiara exchange worried glances.

“Honestly, after what happened with my last relationship,” I continue, “I’ve been trying to stay in the present. I learned the hard way that sometimes it’s best not to worry so much about the future. And even if this thing with Celeste doesn’t go anywhere, I don’t think I’ll ever regret reconnecting with her. It’s been super healing and helpful, since we resolved a lot of things from the past.”

Kiara smiles. “Well, I’m happy for you, then. And proud of you, too! It sounds like you’re in a good place.” She glances around at the candles. “Okay, I have an idea. Gemma, how about for you, we manifest a new, healthy, and happy long-term relationship! Not necessarily for right now, but for somewhere along the line. Whenever you’re ready!”

I make a face. “Can we do that? I thought manifesting was for things you wanted to happen in the near future.”

“Not necessarily!” Kiara says. “Things might happen quickly, or they might happen years later. You never know.”

Val nods. “Yeah, why not? If Kiara is manifesting tickets for a tour Beyoncé hasn’t even announced yet—a tour she may have not even planned yet—why can’t you manifest a new relationship you want at some point?”

Kiara giggles. “Everything happens in divine timing.”

“And Beyoncé’s, apparently,” Val quips.

“Bitch, Beyoncé is a goddess!” Kiara exclaims jokingly. “What are you talking about? It’s like that one Ariana Grande song. God is a woman, period.”

We all cheer in agreement and join hands to start the ritual.

On Friday afternoon, I exit through the doors of my office building. The city streets are loud and crowded, and, at first, I’m worried Celeste won’t be able to get to me. But then a white BMW zips through traffic and comes to a stop in front of me with its hazards on.

Celeste rolls down her window and waves at me. I have to admit it. Seeing her drive a nice car like that, especially in a busy city like San Francisco, is hella attractive.