It was a scream and a whisper at the same time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so sad. I resisted the urge to remind her that she was a grown woman with a teenage daughter, since I knew how important celebrity gossip was to her.

She took a step closer to me. “Do not tell me you saw him with someone else. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

“Let me guess. He’s dating Tiffane?” I asked.

“They’re married, Paula. Where the hell have you been the last five years?”

“Living a life that has nothing to do with either of them.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re too cool for celebrity news,” she said. “Ryan and Tiffane are my third favorite celebrity couple.” She sighed loudly. “This is the best and worst news I’ve heard all year,” she said.

“Your daughter graduated from eighth grade last month—”

“I just wish there was a way for you to really know it was him,” she said, ignoring me. “For sure.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” I asked. “I draw faces for a living… Well, I used to. It was him.”

“Yeah, but you can’t prove it.”

I froze, a thought crossing my mind.

“Actually, I might be able to.”

“What?” she asked.

But I’d already spun around and walked out of the bathroom. I heard Vanessa call out after me, and then she was on my heels as we walked back through the restaurant. The song had changed, and the volume had been turned up, which seemed to be enough for people to forget my marvelous performance a few moments earlier.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

I stopped and turned to her. “I found a phone in my car last night, after I got back home from the diner. I don’t know when it was dropped, but—”

“You think it might be his?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I need to call it a night anyway. I’ll check when I get home.”

“So will I,” she said with a determined look on her face. “I’m coming with you.”

It took us twenty-five minutes to get back to my house. When we arrived, we both opened the doors of our DAC and stumbled down the street toward my car. I was sobering up enough to know how ridiculous we were behaving but still drunk enough not to stop. I popped the trunk when we were about two cars away.

“Wait,” Vanessa said, putting out a hand to stop me.

“What is it?” I asked. I stopped in the middle of the street, and we stood there for a moment. She was smiling, a drunken, wistful smile, and I laughed out loud when she didn’t speak. “What?”

“What will you do if it’s his?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”