Lauren lay awake, staring across the spacious bedroom, adorned with all of Carly’s personal touches: lace curtains, sage walls, soft pink pillows, and the Van Gogh print from Lauren hanging on the wall across from the bed. In her head, the questions swirled, her concerns mounting. She felt alone for the first time since she arrived in LA and was nervous about the path they were heading down. There had been a time not too long ago when she was confident what she and Carly had was a romance that would run no more than the length of their show’s run. What if she was someone Carly just had to put up with now that they were in LA? Carly’s life was her own, and Lauren was a run-of-the-mill stage manager with a boring apartment and a pug who liked to be fed at the same time every night. Now, in addition to all of that, it seemed like Carly was growing more and more uncomfortable with Lauren playing in her sandbox. How long would it be before Carly was done with her altogether? She recognized that her own insecurities were bubbling up, but in the quiet of the night, the unnerving thoughts were hard to swallow back. She looked to her left, to the blond hair she could make out in the pale moonlight, and her trepidatious heart pulled. Since when did Carly sleep on her own? Things were changing between them, and Lauren felt her armor go up.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The night before had ended on a weird note, and Carly hated that she’d let that happen. She woke the next morning with a bright new outlook, ready to make it up to Lauren and push the uncomfortable tension to the curb. She showered, slipped into jeans and a snuggly hoodie, and made coffee for both of them to drink poolside, flipping on the outdoor heaters as she passed. Thanksgiving was not far off, and she, for one, was a big fan of the holiday.

“This is what I’m thinking,” Carly said, with a read-the-headlines gesture.

“I’m ready.” Lauren grinned from behind her mug. She wore leggings and an oversized red sweatshirt. She was quieter than normal this morning, but still affectionate and warm. Carly woke up to find her organizing the junk drawer in the kitchen.

“I see your organizational skills are starving for exercise.”

Lauren had nodded. “They are. These scissors need their own home base. I’m thinking top left, though bottom right might make them quicker for grabbing in an emergency.”

“Oh yeah.” Carly nodded solemnly. “I’m glad you thought of that. I have way too many scissor emergencies around here to be reaching to the top left.”

“Right?” Lauren said emphatically, and the darling thing was that she truly meant it. “Bottom it is.”