I switch over to speakerphone and rest my phone on the edge of my bathroom counter so I can try to do something with my hair. “It’s not like I need union representation, Trina.” My brush gets tangled up, and I curse as it pulls at my scalp. “Dammit, that fucking hurts,” I mutter.

“Are you tweezing those eyebrows finally?”

“What? No, I’m combing my hair.” I squint at myself in the mirror. “Why? Do I need to tweeze my eyebrows?”

“I mean…” She trails off. I wait for her to finish her sentence, but there’s only silence.

“I like my eyebrows,” I grumble.

“Okay,” she says simply.

I roll my eyes and sigh as I pass my brush through my hair again. It’s much smoother this time. “Whatever. I’m fine. Besides, Ryan will be there.”

Trina makes an indecipherable noise that sounds like a cross between a scoff and a hum of disapproval.

“What’s your problem now?” I try to keep the defensiveness out of my tone, but I can’t help it. It’s been over a week since Ryan spent the night here, and even though it was a completely innocent evening, I haven’t mentioned anything to Trina about it. Somehow, it feels private. Like a secret. Something I want to keep close to my heart.

My hair is finally untangled enough to braid it, so I start crossing strands over each other while simultaneously scanning my messy counter for a hair tie.

“I don’t know, Scarlett,” she says on a sigh. “Things didn’t exactly end well for you two. And now all of a sudden, he’s in your life again, editing your book, no less. Dropping off notes at your apartment unannounced, bringing you food—”

“How did you know he brought me food?”

“Uh…” she hedges. “Well, I told him if he must see you, he should bring food with him.” She has the good sense to sound sheepish, but her tone quickly turns agitated. “So of course now I know he saw you and he brought you food because you just admitted it. Come on, Scarlett. Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see what’s going on here.”

My fingers pause mid-braid. “What do you mean?”

“Literally the dumbest smart person I know,” she mumbles. Before I can protest, she practically shouts, “That man never fell out of love with you.”

I wince, rubbing my ear before turning down the speakerphone volume. My braid falls apart as soon as I let go of it. I run my hand through my hair to fluff it up a little and decide, fuck it, it looks good enough as it is.