She returned the list to the drawer and drew in a breath. She would tell Coop about the phone call and potential visit, she vowed. Once they were on the bus, she would let him know and set up some kind of meeting. That would give her time to brace herself and a distraction once he heard the news. Cowardly, perhaps, but it was pretty much the best she could do.

Unity had battled low-grade nausea for days and this morning was no different. She’d dealt with customers, sent out her guys, installed floating shelves and a multifunction Toto toilet that was genuinely more fancy than any car she’d ever owned, ate her meals and lived her life, all with a stomach that wouldn’t settle.

She had acted like an idiot. No, that was unfair to all the idiots in the world. She’d been incoherent. She’d been shaking. She’d acted like she’d been trapped in a cage of lions or snakes or, worst of all, spiders.

After Thaddeus had left, Dagmar had asked if she wanted to talk about what had happened. When Unity had said no, they’d had a nice dinner together, never mentioning the bigger-than-an-elephant in the room.

So her friend had tried to set her up. It happened all the time. Not to her, but in other people’s lives, it happened. Yes, she’d been caught off guard. She had the excuse of shock and not being used to having drinks with a man, but still. She’d been so awkward and dumb about the whole thing that just thinking about it made her insides writhe. She might never want to date again, but shouldn’t she be able to sit in close proximity to a man without having some kind of social seizure?

As she drove to Ellen’s, she thought about everything that had happened in the past few weeks. The pickleball rejection, the fight with Ellen, the grief group rebellion, her reaction to meeting Thaddeus. Maybe the Universe was trying to send her a message. And if it was, maybe she should listen.

She knocked once on Ellen’s front door, then let herself in.

“It’s me,” she called.

Ellen walked into the living room and paused, her hands on her hips. At the sight of her, Unity momentarily forgot her own discomfort. Her friend had on denim shorts and a pale pink T-shirt, neither of which was surprising given the promise of a high around eighty-two. No, the shocker was how the clothes actually fit, showing off Ellen’s body. Just as startling were the eye shadow and mascara enhancing her big blue eyes.

Unity stared at her. “You look great.”

“I feel stupid.”

“You look amazing. Are you wearing eyeliner?”

“Yes. And it’s not easy to put on. I tried a smoky eye yesterday, but I just looked like I got in a fight. How do those YouTube girls do it? Plus, I got mascara in my eye and let me tell you, that’s painful.” She tugged at her T-shirt. “I feel exposed. It’s so tight.”