I look at her. "So what do I do?"
"Do you like her?"
"Yes."
"Enough to try to make this work?"
"Yeah, that's what's scaring me. This isn't just about me anymore."
"So then it's pretty simple."
I shake my head. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"
Wren laughs. "If you like Sam enough, you're gonna have to."
I wait.
"No matter how uncomfortable it is, you stay with her. You don't disappear. You tell her when you're scared." Wren picks up the empty box, folds it flat with a sharp crease down the middle. "And you stop treating 'staying' like a trap."
I nod slowly. "That doesn't feel simple, Wren."
I want to believe that it’s possible.
"What you have to do is simple," Wren says, moving the folded boxes closer to the back door. "I didn't say doing it would be simple. But if you really like Sam as much as you say you do, you'll figure it out."
I look at her.
"But first I'm sure you'll screw it up."
I stare at her.
Wren starts laughing. "Sorry, I was trying to lighten the mood. Did I go too far?"
I pretend to smack her with the rag still in my hand.
She ducks, still grinning, and glances at the time on her phone. "I'm starving. You want to grab food before you head out?"
I shake my head. "I should get going. I have some editing to finish before Monday."
"Okay." Wren walks me to the door, unlocks it. "Thanks for the shelf."
"Anytime."
She hugs me—quick, tight. "I'm proud of you, you know."
I pull back, confused. "For installing a shelf?"
"For planning two weeks out." She grins. "Baby steps."
I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling. "Yeah. Baby steps."
***
The sandwich tastes like cardboard. I set it down on the coffee table next to my laptop, half-eaten, and lean back against the couch.
I'm supposed to be reviewing the latest round of Harbor images. The folder's open on my screen—forty-three images waiting for final selection. I scroll through the thumbnails without really seeing them.
I open my text thread with Sam instead.
