John looked up at the dark sky and thought about Anna, about that afternoon at the bar, the way she ran the set, the way she had laughed on the way back down the hill as he drove the truck, and how she couldn’t argue with him fast enough about The Godfather. “Yeah, she is.”

“Good,” Clara said with finality.

John could picture the smile on her face. Clara didn’t second-guess him when he made a decision. Well, except when he should have listened to her about signing Melton’s paperwork for the option.

“Hey, look at this.” Clara spoke as if they were camped out on the couch watching reruns and not on separate sides of the world.

John’s phone buzzed with Clara’s text: a picture of her arm with the tattoo completed. It looked gorgeous, shining like sunlight through stained glass. The warrior woman with her shield and her sword. Colorful, brilliant flowers he couldn’t name encircled her body. He marveled at the solemn, steadfast expression on the woman’s face.

“It’s beautiful,” John said, not taking his eyes from the picture. “It’s perfect.”

“Pretty good, right?”

“It is.”

“I think it’ll help,” Clara said.

John detected that note in her voice of something important to say. “With?” John prompted.

“I took the internship.” Her exasperation sounded feigned, but he knew she needed to make it very much not a big deal, because if she’d actually taken the job, it was a life-changing event. “I’m going to work on the climate change series.”

“Of course you fucking are.”

“Settle down, champ.”

“When do you start?”

“Two weeks. I’ll be gone for a while.”

John had been so excited for her to take the job, he’d forgotten about what it meant—she would be leaving LA and their little apartment. Still, it was far past time for both of them to move on, to move away from that uncomfortable couch and onto whatever came next.

“I’ll put my stuff in storage. Pay through the end of the month,” Clara said.

“Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine after I get paid for this shoot.”

“You’ll be okay?” Clara asked.

“Just remember me when you get famous. I might even buy groceries now.”

“You’ll take care of yourself? Somehow?”

“I’m going to be fine,” John said. They both knew he would be okay, but it was the end of something. It was the end of them pretending that they didn’t need to move on. “This is the perfect job for you, you know. You’ll be a reporter before long.”