“Well, now that we have this bogus purchase out of the way,” I tell her, “to what do I owe the honor of an early Monday morning visit? Shouldn’t you be sleeping still, given you and Jean-Claude were moaning like pandas in heat until three in the morning?”

Jules smiles sheepishly and licks her thumb clean of a gooey fleck of chocolate. “Sorry about that. It’s been a while because our work schedules weren’t syncing. And when I’m keyed up like that I get—”

“Really loud? Yes. Yes, you do. Now, let’s move on from your sex life.”

“Well, you won’t have to know about my sex life much longer. Jean-Claude and I are going to start looking for our own place.”

My stomach drops. “Already?”

“Don’t worry,” she says quickly, clasping my hand. “We’ll figure out a roommate solution for you before I move. You know me—how picky I am, plus how tough it is to find a decently priced rental around here, it’ll take a while for us to find something we both like.”

I take a deep breath that feels like swallowing too-hot tea. “Right. Of course.”

“We’ll figure it out together, okay?” Jules smiles gently.

I want to tell her it’s hard to feel like there’s still a “we” when her boyfriend—excuse me, fiancé—is dragging us apart. But I’m probably just being typical Bea, reluctant to accept change, especially when I’m eons away from her priorities of marriage and babies and riding off into the sunset.

“Yeah.” I nod and force a smile.

Releasing my hand, Jules smiles wider, then clears her throat and says, “So, why I’m here: I want to talk. You’ve been sullen since the party. Is this about what happened with West?”

“Jamie. And yes, it’s your fault, all you hooligans. You pushed and nudged us together until I ended up locked in a closet with him!”

Where we came really fucking close to kissing.

I keep that to myself. I’m not admitting that we almost kissed before he thought better of it and bolted. I’ve been humiliated enough.

“We didn’t plan that!” Jules says, searching my eyes. “Why were you upset? Did something happen?”

“I told you it didn’t!”

She lifts her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! You just seemed flustered. You still do.”

“Because it was a terrible, awful, no-good, disastrous night.”

Jules shuffles her foot, scuffing her high-heeled Mary Jane on the store’s wide wood planks. “I don’t think he meant to offend you by leaving like—”

“He’d just escaped close quarters with a rabid animal?” I offer.

“He gets nervous. Jean-Claude told me West is really hard on himself, and he gets anxious in social settings.”

“Welcome to the club. You don’t see me acting like that, and I’m socially anxious, too.”