“Do you have a dog?” I ask, crouching to pick up my bags.

“What are you doing?” she asks me.

“You go first.”

In the darkness I see her shrug. “Uncle Don and Tyler got a dog. They went to the Columbus Humane Society ‘just to look,’ but you know how that goes, and now . . .”

“Now they have a dog.”

Annie picks the dog up, and even in the dark I can see it eyeing me warily. “She’s some sort of terrier mix, I think? All I know about her is that she loves barking, peeing, and dog treats.”

“Wow.” I take a step closer, the gate between us. “Don got a dog and I didn’t even know.”

“You should come over more often,” Annie says gently.

“I’m busy.” The words come automatically.

“Speaking of which . . .” She points with her free hand at my bag. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I say, attempting to shift the bag and then almost dropping it again. “I’m gonna go into my apartment and—”

“Chloe,” Annie says in a voice so full of understanding and warmth that I almost want to cry. “Just come inside.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Annie sits me down on the floral sofa and wraps me up in a crocheted blanket.

“I should be taking care of you,” I complain. “You’re the one who’s getting married in five days.”

“But you’re the one who’s shivering,” Annie says. “It’s chilly outside! Why were you wandering around without a coat?”

“I didn’t even notice.”

Annie plops down beside me on the couch and we sit facing each other, our legs pulled up and tucked under us. “Chloe. What’s going on?”

I sigh. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I want the longest of long versions, with copious tangents.”

I explain to her what happened with Nick. She widens her eyes when I tell her we slept together but doesn’t say anything (although I can tell that it’s hard for her). I tell her about what happened after the premiere with my dad, how I haven’t spoken to Milo since, and how awful work has been. I tell her about how Nick wants us to be partners at the shop and she finally interrupts me.

“You would be so good at that.” She reaches out and puts a hand on my knee. “You know you would.”

“I’m also pretty good at making decorative poms,” I say, pointing to the bag on the floor. “That doesn’t mean I need to make a career out of them.”

“I told you, you don’t have to do that, okay?”

“But I want to!” I say, my voice rising. The dog lifts her head up from her place on the floor and gives me a curious look. “Wait. What’s the dog’s name?”

“Leia.”

“Huh. I would’ve assumed Don and Tyler would go for more of a Star Wars deep cut.”