“You don’t have to apologize.” Even as I say it, though, I know it’s incomplete. I know it’s not all I have to say. I’m making her feel better, but not myself.

I take a deep breath.

“But I do think—if you want us to keep working together on your house—I’d prefer if I’m taking direction from one person. It’s difficult, in my position, when there’s a lot of conflict over the commission. I totally understand if that doesn’t work for you.”

There’s a long, awkward pause before she speaks again. It’s possible I can hear the dust motes talking to one another; that’s how quiet it seems in here as I wait for her to tell me whether the deal is off. It doesn’t matter that I’m coming off a great couple of weeks of work for Make It Happyn: at this moment, Sibby’s packed boxes feel encroaching, a reminder of why it’s important for me to keep this job, too. My body seems to straighten, to take on a preparatory posture. I think of Reid, wondering if this is how his body feels to himself all the time. It must be exhausting.

“My other friends don’t like him, either,” Lark says, finally. “Back in LA.”

My other friends. I hear this as the gesture I think it is, a reciprocation of my Anytime you want to get out offer. Lark considers me her friend, not just her employee.

I shrug. “Well, hey. It was only one meeting.”

I don’t say it because I think Cameron improves over time; I am almost certain he doesn’t. I say it because—as her new friend, I guess—I don’t think it would help, right in this moment, to pile on.

I think it would help her to hear something else.

“Think of yourself as having two people here, at least, okay?”

She looks over at me and gives me her closemouthed smile. “Thank you,” she says softly. She swallows again, her face flashing with emotion briefly before she arranges it again into something neutral, unaffected. Then she looks over at me and breathes out a small, sarcastic laugh.

“Men,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Am I right?”

I blink in surprise, seeing this side of Lark, this more Princess Freddie side of her. But I recover quickly. I know this is a fragile step in this new, fledgling friendship.

“Maybe that should be the quote for the wall,” I say, doing my best deadpan Reid impression.