If it took a giraffe to make Holly stop obsessing about the conference and start worrying about the party tonight, the universe would provide. There was Sophie, peeking out the back of the extra-tall trailer that blocked the entrance to the estate, horns straight up, ears straight out, peering down her nose at the SUV like an alert librarian. Holly had asked for a giraffe, and here one was, reminding her how much work still lay ahead to make sure the event tonight was a spectacle, but not a circus. It would demand her full attention. Instead, she’d spent most of the ride home fixating on that woman, and on the speech (not her best), but mostly on that woman—Phoebe Lee, Ted’s ex-wife.

She was already a sore spot between them, which was Ted’s fault entirely. They were already engaged when Holly finally learned that Phoebe had been not just a creative partner but Ted’s wife. If only he’d told Holly up front that he was divorced, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. Sharing your secrets, wasn’t that what you did when you were falling in love? Within a month or two of dating, she’d told him about all of her exes—not that it was an extensive list or anything, just the usual: a high school boyfriend, the bass player in college, a couple other hookups. His list was longer, but uncomplicated, given what a workaholic he was. The hard part was clarifying which of the many actresses he’d had his picture taken with were women he’d actually gone on dates with and which had just starred in his films or were hoping to soon. His exes all had the same look about them, petite but athletic, big eyes, button noses. She pictured each one of them atop their own cheering pyramid. She’d Googled Phoebe once, and found one grainy photo of the two of them at the Starfighter premiere, posing awkwardly, huge grins on their faces, like they’d just won a free cake at a carnival, but not touching, their hands each clasped behind their own backs. Phoebe was beautiful, obviously—she looked stunning in that red Caroline Herrera gown—but the inches between her and Ted spoke volumes. She was no one Holly needed to worry about.

Until she did. One day she felt utterly precious to Ted, and the next he was talking to her about a prenup. Nothing personal, and if it weren’t for the company, he wouldn’t have bothered, but he had to have one, you see, after what had happened with Phoebe.