Guy and Sophie were already rapt in conversation, Paul was typing away on his phone with his usual level of intensity, and Danial was off to the far end of the salon, talking with Melanie. It felt exactly like college—a thought that made her smile from across the room. Everyone sorted themselves into the same essential categories, and even the lives they were living seemed like logical extensions of the paths they had started in school. Danial wanted to make as much money as possible, and he did. Bee and Dev were not just still together, but married with twins. Guy had finally locked Paul down after years of chasing him. Even Sophie was still her intrinsically chic self, now being paid to elevate others to the same status through expensive French clothing. It was hard not to wonder if they found her endearingly familiar, or if her consistency read more like stagnancy.

She graciously accepted a flute of champagne from a petite crewmember with dark hair, nodding a thank you and loading up a cocktail napkin with a few delicious-looking petit fours. It was probably gauche to eat too much before dinner, but she was starving.

“If you’re going right now, make it the dead of winter,” Sophie said as Alex sidled up to her conversation with Guy. “It’s like Disneyland otherwise. So many tourists.”

“What are we talking about?” Alex smiled, setting a rich olive mini-tart on her tongue.

“Paris. Guy and Paul are thinking about stopping by this year.”

“Oh, that’s exciting.” She turned toward Guy. “Honeymoon?”

“No.” Guy scoffed, tipping his flute for a passing crewmember to top off his champagne. “Honeymoon is in South Africa. This is for work.”

“Well, let me know when you’re there,” Sophie said. “I’m splitting my time 50/50 right now.”

“Didn’t you just say it was horrible outside of winter?” Alex asked, to a light chuckle from Guy. She only realized afterward that the question probably sounded sarcastic.

Sophie turned to face her, a husky-like glint in her eyes as she narrowed her gaze.

“It is. But I have to be there for work.”

“No, of course,” she corrected, clearing her throat.

“Speaking of, how’s work?” Guy asked, turning to face Alex with an unexpected change of subject.

“Well,” she started, clicking into the curated phrasing she’d prepared to describe her own life, “it’s going well. We have candidates in three governor races this fall.”

“Remind me what you do again?” Sophie spoke with a disaffected boredom that Alex knew better than to take personally. “For the campaigns?”

“I work in political communication and digital strategy.”

“Oh, right, right,” Sophie said, setting her glass down on the tray of a passing crewmember without looking. “That’s cool.”

“Yeah, it keeps me busy! And you, how is APC?”

“It’s good, you know. Work.” Sophie flipped her long, brown hair over her shoulder. “This dress is actually from our new collection.”