Ours was a once-in-a-lifetime sort of friendship, forged in dubious choices, heartache, drunken texting, and the complete acceptance and understanding of our individual gifts as well as our flaws. I’d take a bullet for Soph without question, and I knew she’d do the same for me.

“So work tomorrow, huh?” I asked.

She met my gaze. “Yes. You don’t have to work the whole day, but I am just so excited for you to see the office and meet everyone.”

She was dancing on her tiptoes again, and I was afraid a high kick of excitement was headed my way.

“I was just confirming,” I said. “Of course I’ll be there bright and early.”

She hugged me tight, pulling me down to her level while she hopped up and down.

“Is she trying to choke you out again?” Miguel asked as he strode through the kitchen door.

Sophie released me and turned to him. “I think I have been remarkably self-contained, given that having Annabelle here is a dream come true for me.”

“Yes, I know.” His smile was tight as he slid his arm around her back and gave her a half hug. When he looked down, I noticed his smile was not reflected in his eyes when he asked, “And you always get your way, don’t you?”

Sophie blinked at him. A look of hurt flashed across her face, but she visibly shook it off. I didn’t know if I was just overtired from the long day I’d already put in, topped by margaritas, and was being oversensitive, or if my feeling that there was something wrong between them, and that something appeared to be me, was accurate or not.

I forced a laugh, because, as I’ve mentioned, I hate conflict and will always try to laugh it off, but then Miguel held out an envelope to me, stifling my awkward attempt to keep things light. The letter-size envelope looked thick, like something the IRS hand-delivers to your house if you forget to pay your taxes.

“What’s this?” I asked.

He blew out a breath. “Daire’s rules for the renter.”

I looked at him and then at the envelope. I weighed it in my palm. It had some heft. I glanced back at Miguel. “How many pages is it?”

He shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Feels like fifty-eleven.”

Soph frowned at the envelope. “I thought we hashed all that out when she signed the rental agreement.”

“Apparently, Daire got to thinking about it, and he has some additional house rules that he’d like Annabelle to follow,” Miguel said.

“Like what?” Soph asked. She sounded annoyed on my behalf. “She paid her first and last, put down a security deposit, and signed the lease. What more could he want from her?”