“Shit. Should you be walking on that?”

“It looks worse than it is. Ace bandage, ice . . .” She trailed off. “I should put a shirt on.”

“No.” Emilia felt herself blush. “I mean, it’s your house. I’m the intruder. I can take off.”

“Fuck.” Morgan swore under her breath and sagged against the wall. Nell chose that moment to bound up the stairs in search of her person and paused to give Morgan an exuberant greeting.

“She met James.”

“And you’re still alive?” Morgan asked Nell.

“It was a near thing.”

“I bet it was.” Morgan stroked Nell’s narrow head.

“Where are you broken this time?” Lillian asked when she returned.

“Her ankle,” said Emilia.

“And you’re standing on it, why?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“This is why I went into small animal medicine.” Lillian positioned herself next to Morgan. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

Morgan shot Emilia a rueful look and allowed Lillian to place her arm around her shoulders and lead her, limping, away. Emilia stared at Morgan’s back and was glad no one could see her face as she pictured digging her nails into the smooth, freckled skin. Maybe Anna Maria was right.

“Oh yeah,” Angie said when they showed up in the living room. “Forgot to tell you. Morgan’s home.” She stroked the still bristling James with an expression of feigned innocence. It occurred to Emilia, as it should have sooner, that Morgan’s friends must have opinions of their own about her sudden appearance in Morgan’s life.

“I’m just going to head out.” She turned, the box of painting supplies shifting awkwardly in her arms, and fled.

•   •   •

Morgan sank into the armchair with a groan. “Thanks for that, Ange.”

“What? It’s not my fault you didn’t put a shirt on.”

“I would have if I’d known Emilia was here.”

“Why? You’re decent.”

“By your standards, maybe,” said Lillian as she pulled up Morgan’s pant leg to examine her ankle.

“The human body is nothing to be ashamed of,” said Angie.

“I’m not ashamed of my body.”

“Emilia’s seen women in sports bras before. I assume she’s gone to a gym at least once in her life.”

“Ange . . . Ow.” Morgan didn’t finish her sentence. Lillian’s gentle rotation of her ankle had ended, and she began poking around one of the more tender areas.

“You should stay off this for a few days.”

“You know that isn’t an option. I’m booked.”

“Then let Stevie drive and use crutches as much as you can.”

“I’ll try.”

“Let me get you some ice. Where’s the dog?”

“With Stevie still. Traitor.”

“You really didn’t see Emilia’s car when you pulled in?”

“No.”