Arman came out with a bottle of tequila, grapefruit juice, a bucket of ice, and four glasses. She loved how he hadn’t asked what anyone wanted. This was exactly what she wanted. As he fixed the drinks, she offered a habitual silent prayer of gratitude that she was not an alcoholic and could therefore enjoy this drink. During Leda’s first stint in rehab, she and Matthew had each taken a hard look at their habits, their history, and their families’ histories. They’d browbeaten and theorized and she’d given up all alcohol for several months to see if she was secretly dependent, even though she had a low tolerance and rarely had more than some wine with dinner. After she was sufficiently sure that she wasn’t addicted to alcohol, she gave up sugar, gluten, dairy, then finally welcomed it all back, deciding never to give up anything again unless there was an absolute medical necessity.

Sarah sat back on the couch. There was a prolonged moment of pouring and stirring; no one spoke. Kiki cuddled Sylvie. A tree branch scraped gently against the window screen; there was the repeated faraway honking of a horn. As Sarah’s gaze traveled over everyone’s heads and through the windows, she could see the stone wall and outdoor table; the leaves on the verdant trees. She let her vision narrow and all she saw was green. She could feel the man’s fingers almost gentle on her stomach, the twilight of the park two nights ago now as her face hit the ground.

She touched the cut on the bridge of her nose.

“What’d they take?” asked Kiki.

“What?” Sarah asked, confused.

“When you were mugged.”

“I told you.” Sarah was perfectly aware she had no business being irritated, that if there was any moment to let details slide, it was now. “My phone.”

“That’s it?”

“I have a lot on my phone.”

“No backup?”

Sarah took a longer drink. “No, not really.”

“You mean like notes? Did you lose notes?”

Sarah nodded.

“Are you working on something?”

“Sort of, but what about you?” Sarah asked, as if none of the visit had happened yet and they’d begun with chitchat after all. “I haven’t even asked about your work. Your website is beautiful.”

“Thanks; I need to update it.” Kiki nodded to Sylvie on the floor. “I’ve been pretty neglectful.”

Arman sat down in the club chair above Kiki. He put his hands on her shoulders. “You haven’t been neglectful.”

“Not with Sylvie.” She balked. “My work.”

“Oh.”

“He barely realizes I have a business.”

“Come on,” Arman said lightly, “I do, too. I love her designs. You should have seen our place in L.A.…”

“You know, I finally saw your second film,” Kiki said.

“Why?” Sarah said. “It’s terrible. I told you it was terrible.”