I took another breath, this one much longer and slower, before reaching up to push the button next to Emma’s name. I waited, wondering what I was supposed to say. But nobody asked who it was; they only buzzed the door open, and a moment later, I was stepping inside.

I was instantly awed by the simple, modern decor of the apartment building. I couldn’t imagine how often they cleaned it, but there wasn’t a speck on the plush, tan carpet under my feet or even a smudge on the cream-colored walls.

When I got to the second floor, I could see Emma standing in the door, though she was facing back into her apartment and talking to someone. She spun to face me when I was just steps away and then smiled, stepping back to let me inside.

“Chris!” she said, an expression of surprise on her face. But instead of asking me why the hell I’d shown up without confirming that I was coming, she reached forward and gave me a hug.

I was caught off guard for a moment and just froze, one arm cradling the plant, the other reaching around to pat her awkwardly on the back.

“I’m so happy you could make it,” she said.

“Sorry I didn’t call,” I started.

But she shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry about it. There’s plenty of space and plenty of food.”

I held the plant out, and she smiled and took it from me. “That was so kind of you,” she said, and it sounded genuine. “Thank you.” We walked inside together, and she set the plant down on a small table near the door.

The room was bright, large, and beautifully put together. There was a dining table against one wall, decorated so carefully that it looked like it should’ve been featured in an IKEA catalog. It was covered in a satin tablecloth that looked so soft, I almost reached out to touch it. There were eight place settings around the rectangular table, three on each side and one at either head of the table. Each setting contained a plate with a beautiful yellow-and-blue napkin folded delicately on top, a wineglass, and a bamboo place mat.

There was a man walking toward me, holding a glass of wine. He was a few inches shorter than me in my heels, with thinning black hair and a huge, toothy smile.

“Chris, this is Joshua Burlap. He’s the owner of Klein’s on Halsted in Lincoln Park. We’re planning on having our launch event there next week, which is just fantastic. “Joshua, this is the artist I was telling you about, Chris…”

Emma turned to me with a puzzled look and then a sheepish smile. She trailed off in a way that made it clear she was looking for my last name, but I played it off by reaching out quickly to shake his hand.