“My call time is five a.m. Can you set a backup alarm for three forty-five?”

Lauren grimaced, not envying Carly in the slightest. The game show appearances, followed by the great write-ups on Home Fires, had her star on the rise. The studio-produced film offers had started rolling in once again, but to her credit, Carly hadn’t jumped immediately. She’d pored through scripts, selecting the roles she’d find challenging or fulfilling, even if that meant less screen time. She was relaxed, happy, and fulfilled. It certainly showed.

As for Lauren, she enjoyed her life as a student of the theater. She’d even talked with Jeanine about shadowing her in the future, a prospect Jeanine was very much in favor of. Stage managing was a great passion of Lauren’s, but maybe it was time she graduated to director. She had a lot of ideas of her own, and lots of stories to tell.

“Three forty-five, it is.” Lauren shook her head. “Ouch, by the way.”

“Right? Why do they hate me?” Carly stuck out her bottom lip.

“No one hates you. You’re too cute for hate.”

“Oh, I like that idea a lot.” Carly cocked a playful hip. “Do you want to help this cute person finish our bathroom wall?”

“Hmm.” Lauren made a show out of considering the offer. “Only if there is fooling around during and after. I can’t see you in short overalls and not get handsy.”

Carly offered an overly innocent smile. “It’s the very reason I invited you. Follow me.”

Lauren eagerly trailed Carly into their master bathroom, full of tarps, and tape, and paint, and brushes. Oh, my. She and Carly led a fairly exciting and diverse life by most people’s standards, but the mundane moments like these were the ones that Lauren cherished most. She looked forward to lazy afternoons by the much smaller pool in their backyard, gatherings with old and new friends alike, and the quiet of the night, when she could lie with Carly in her arms and know that she was right where she was supposed to be.

“I want spaghetti tonight,” Lauren said, as she painted. “I have no idea why.”

Carly pointed at her with a paintbrush. “Then we shall seek out this spaghetti and make it ours.”

They painted some more with the gentle sounds of Norah Jones playing from the small speaker Carly had set up in the bathroom. Lauren swayed her hips slightly to the music.

“Hey, Car?”

“Yes?”

“I really love you.”

“Good, because it’s not fun being hopelessly in love all by yourself.” They leaned in and exchanged a kiss over a can of paint.

“One more thing,” Lauren said. She pointed just above Carly’s head. “You missed a spot.”

Carly glanced up and smirked. “Still the project manager. You want to grab one of your Post-its and mark its placement?”

Lauren nodded, her heart full. “Lord knows I have enough.”