“I don’t want you out of my hair,” Lauren said to Carly’s back as she retreated down the hall. No answer. She closed her eyes and let her emotions settle into a neat pile. Carly needed space to work through this atrocious rumor, which was the opposite of what she’d been hoping for. Though it was Lauren’s natural inclination to try to fix everything, there was very little she could do about the media and what they wrote. She gave it some time, tidied up the kitchen, and eventually picked up Rocky IV and carried him, infant style, into her bathroom where she found Carly putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

“Someone wanted to say good morning.”

Carly eyed her in the mirror. Her shoulders relaxed and the ends of her mouth tugged when she saw Rocky. It was hard to resist the face of a pug carried like a precious newborn. Rocky dropped his face over the back of Lauren’s arm and regarded Carly from his upside-down position, content to be adored and fussed over like the little prince he was.

“Well, that’s certainly an unusual greeting.” Carly leaned down and let him swipe his upside-down tongue across her face. She scratched his head with both hands, and his curlicue tail set to wiggling, which was so much cuter than wagging. “I can’t say I’d ever turn away a kiss from this fur ball of love.”

“Well, who would?” A pause. “You okay?” Lauren asked quietly. “You fled the scene earlier. I was worried.”

Carly leaned against the bathroom counter and considered the question. Her hair was shiny and her lips were perfectly adorned, but her soul likely hurt. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I’m doing okay. I can admit that those were not the words I wanted to read this morning, but do you know what I can’t stop thinking about, the part that has stuck with me the most?”

Lauren set Rocky on the floor and watched as he darted back to the living room for more sun spot snoozing. “Tell me.” She braced herself for Carly’s disappointment, knowing she’d feel it as strongly as she would her own.

“What they said about you. I’m trying to be angry and feel sorry for myself, but all I can seem to do instead is smile about all the wonderful things they’ve said about you, because they’re all true. And then I have to look in the mirror, because who am I? I’m supposed to be self-involved and throw a Hollywood tantrum, but I feel more like a woman who can’t stop thinking about you.”