Carly took a deep breath. She stared at her plate as if she’d lost her appetite. Lauren hated that. This was their celebratory dinner. “I don’t think we have to say anything. It is what it is.”

“Listen, I’m nobody and you’re Carly Daniel. There’s no competition here. Trust me.”

Carly shook her head. “Don’t say that.” She seemed genuinely bothered by that sentence. “You’re Lauren Prescott, and you’re definitely somebody important, and the only person to call me on my own bullshit in a very long time.”

Lauren smiled. “I think I was the only person crazy enough to.”

“So true. How is this so amazing? We need to invite the chef over and keep him.”

Lauren laughed. “See? That would never occur to me, a commoner.”

They ate in silence, but a weight had settled over the evening. They made small talk, smiled at each other, and marveled again and again over the amazing food. There was too much marveling, in fact.

“Are things weird now?” Lauren asked, finally, over dessert.

Carly shook her head. “No. Not at all.” A pause. She softened. “Maybe a little.” She offered a genuine smile. “I don’t want them to be.”

“Me neither.”

“Okay.” Carly reached for Lauren’s hand and kissed it. “Then let’s not allow it.”

“Deal.”

But when they went to bed that night, Lauren felt the distance manifest into the physical. Carly wasn’t herself. She kissed Lauren good night but remained on her side of the bed.

“You okay over there?” Lauren asked into the dark.

“Yes, just exhausted. Crazy day.”

“It was.”