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Justine let out a sigh. “This is going to be unpleasant,” she announced but went no further. Anticipation became discomfort in Molly’s stomach. Either Justine had a flare for dramatics like Eli, or Molly really wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

“So, you’re my best friend,” Justine finally said.

Molly was so stunned she couldn’t even laugh.

Justine continued, “And yes, I’m well aware that I’m not your best friend, technically. But you’re still mine.”

“I thought . . . we were business partners.”

“We are.”

“And . . . friends?”

Justine swiped a finger through her bangs. “Is it so unbelievable?” When Molly couldn’t formulate an answer, Justine continued, “Could I just—only once, I promise.” And before Molly could decide where that statement was headed, she was pulled into a short but forceful hug. “I’m really glad you’re okay. Alright?”

Justine’s hug ended nearly as quickly, and confusingly, as it began.

Molly needed to gather herself. She needed coffee. Or maybe wine. Definitely a seat, at the very least. She sank into the chair beside Pawntès. “I don’t know if it’s unbelievable or not, honestly. We weren’t exactly . . . friendly, at school.”

“We weren’t necessarily unfriendly.”

“If I’m your best friend, why did Eli have to break you into my home? It seems like the closest people in my life already have access. There’s also the option to come over and simply knock.”

Justine let out a laugh, returning to her previously occupied seat at the table. “Apparently I have some trouble with boundaries.” The frown on her face suggested she disagreed with that assessment. “In my defense, we all do. I think it’s part of our charm.” She gestured to the object on the table between them. “This is for you. Something of a welcome-back-to-being-friends gift. Look, I get why Aster wanted time to orient you. I know we can all be a lot sometimes, but . . .”

“It’s time,” Molly supplied. “I’m ready.” She reached out for the gift, finding something soft, deep purple, and knitted. Removing the ribbon, Molly unfolded it to reveal a knee-length dress covered in delicate vertical cabling.

“I started working on it when you were in the hospital. Helps me manage stress.”

“You made this?” She was genuinely stunned. She’d never knitted anything in her life, but Mrs. Clay regularly did, and Molly knew how time intensive it could be. How much a labor of love it was. Her eyes stung, touched.

Justine appeared uncomfortable with her own sentimentality, avoiding Molly’s eyes. “I did. And you need to try it on. Knits are forgiving, so hopefully I guessed your size close enough.” Justine sat a little straighter. Confidence filled her up again, once more looking like she knew how to run a board meeting. Or an independent bookstore, evidently. “Then we need to strategize what your evening with Aster is going to look like, because apparently I’m the only person willing to prep you for this.”

“Prep me for what?” Molly asked, not following.

“Do you know what today is?” Justine asked.

“Thursday?”

Justine nearly smiled. “I won’t concede to the technicality. Do you know the significance of the date?”

“It’s what—the twenty-ninth?”

“It’s Aster’s birthday. And he’s been really weird about it for the past couple of years, so you need to be prepared.”

Molly reeled, confusion and denial swarming her.

“I—no, that can’t be right. I talked to him this morning, and he didn’t say anything about it being his birthday.”

“Of course he didn’t. He’s probably trying to pretend it’s not happening because he’s an idiot.” Justine stood, took the dress, and gestured for Molly to follow. “We need to get you changed.”

Justine turned to her abruptly once they’d entered the bedroom. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“You know, we might need to revisit the boundaries thing.”

“So, you’re not? I suppose that means operation progeny is on hold.”

Molly gaped. “You know we were trying to—”