“This,” she says, taking us into the dining room, which is a stunningly all-white contrast to the deep, dark hues of the rest of the hotel, “this is pure Faena right here. He’s known for never wearing anything but all white. I met him once in London, he’s such a character.”

I realize as Gemma continues to gush about the design—and even after we’re seated in the cozy library bar with its eye-wateringly expensive cocktails—that every detail she mentions seems to tie back to some story of Gemma’s old life. The other Faena Hotel and Art Basel, the gallery launch where she sat next to Philippe Starck in London. I realize we’re here because Gemma is homesick.

We’ve scarcely been sitting ten minutes when Gemma runs into someone she knows.

“Gemma!” A tall brunette in an architectural-looking dress strides over to embrace her. Gemma is on her feet with a smile plastered to her face, trying to mask her alarm.

“Lucy!”

“Gem, my god, is this where you’ve been?” The woman’s face, I notice, doesn’t register the delighted surprise of someone who’s unexpectedly run into a friend abroad. Her look is more shock and confusion.

Gemma dodges the question by turning to introduce us. I hear Edward muttering, “I knew it.”

“Come meet my friends, Luce. Well, perhaps you know Edward already.”

“I haven’t had the pleasure, actually.” Edward stands too, and soon the rest of us are awkwardly, uncertainly on our feet. Lucy looks utterly perplexed as Gemma introduces each one of us as simply “a dear friend,” even Anders. As he leans forward to shake her hand, he puts his free hand on the small of Gemma’s back possessively. He doesn’t want to be introduced as a friend.

Lucy looks aghast. “Gemma, you haven’t.”

“Lucy, let’s go chat for just a moment, hmm?” Gemma desperately ushers her away.

She hustles her off quickly but not so quickly that I don’t hear Lucy mention “Thomas and the girls.” And it becomes clear to me that I’ve always known Gemma was hiding something, and of course, we all have been, haven’t we? Except, seemingly, the great bachelor of the ages, Edward.

Cali and I exchange bewildered glances—Edward is shaking his head and avoids looking at any of us. No one says a word until Gemma returns several minutes later looking distraught. She heads straight to Edward’s side, and I feel a pang for Anders that she didn’t come to him.

“Oh, Edward, Lucy won’t say anything, do you think? She’s a friend, she wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know, Gemma. I don’t know Lucy from a hole in the ground.”

“Come on, love,” Anders says, gently taking her arm. “Maybe we’d better leave.”

“Yes,” Edward says. “Let’s go home. Gem, we’ll talk about this later.”