I laugh through the ache in my chest.
Then another text:
Susan:Your parents land tomorrow afternoon. I’ll meet them at the Cape house. Don’t you dare stress about helping.
“Great,” I whisper. “I’m officially useless.”
Shani elbows me. “No, you’re officially famous. Different thing.”
“Shani… I need to see my therapist. This is too much. I’m not built for this.”
“Yes, you are,” she says softly. “You just don’t know it yet.”
She leans back, arms behind her head.
“So, what’s the plan tomorrow? Therapist appointment… then?”
“I’m heading up to the Cape to see my parents.”
“Your aunt said the new rental is nice?”
“Waterfront, apparently.”
“Ooh, love that for you.”
She wiggles her brows. “Maybe you can relax. Maybe have a moment. Maybe figure out your shit with?—”
“Don’t say Leo.”
“I wasn’t going to say Leo.”
“You were absolutely going to say Leo.”
She shrugs. “Yeah. Guilty.”
I groan again.
“I’m going to sleep after therapy,” I say. “Then head up. Hide from humanity. Reset my brain.”
She nods solemnly.
“Great plan. Very anti-celebrity of you.”
I throw a pillow at her.
She catches it without flinching.
We both laugh.
And just like that, the world feels a little less terrifying.
A little less heavy.
A little more survivable.
At least for tonight.
Shani fell asleep first, sprawled out like a starfish across her half of the bed, clay mask flaking onto her pillow, one Twizzler still in her hand.
