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Ali didn’t have time to overthink the fact she needed to create fifteen new pieces worthy of Leah Coleman’s gallery in less than three months. Before she could spiral, Wren showed up with a six-pack of cider under her arm, declaring an impromptu girls’ night at Natasha’s.

On their walk there, Wren filled her in. “So, I gotta be honest, Charlotte instigated this.” She nudged her shoulder into Ali’s.

Her heart felt squishy as she shoved her hands in her pockets, the toe of her sandal scuffing over stone. “She did?”

Wren’s steps carried her ahead, despite her shorter legs. “She felt bad for ditchin’ you last minute. Even though she had a good reason.” Wren’s chest puffed with pride. “She asked me to make sure you would have a good weekend without her.”

Color dusted its way across her cheeks as butterflies took off in her stomach. While understanding of Charlotte’s impromptu departure, she would be lying if she hadn’t been looking forward to getting to see her. They hadn’t been too busy to send each other teasing texts about how they wanted to spend their weekend. Neither of them had any PG activities in mind.

“She’s so sweet.”

Wren wagged her eyebrows, ciders clinking with every bouncing step. “Totally something a friend with benefits would do. Definitely not girlfriend behavior.”

Ali’s ears burned and she looked out over the busy streets, not too warm now that the sun had dipped below the buildings to plummet toward the horizon. “She’s just thoughtful. She knows I don’t have a lot of friends here.”

“She is pretty great. She always answers my mornin’ Snaps.”

“You’re friends with her now too?”

Wren nodded, chin high. “We talk recipes and music. Did you know she plays piano?”

“I do. But why do you know?”

The bounce drained from Wren’s steps as she slowed. “Heck.” She ran a hand through her short platinum locks, the dirty blonde of her roots just starting to show. “Should I have asked if it was cool that I’m friends with your friends?”

Wren was trying to build something here in Boston, too. Something safe. Ali was happy to share if it meant Wren would stay…

Ali’s head shook back and forth, rushing to reassure her. “No, please be friends! I just didn’t know you two were swapping recipes now.”

Wren’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s a recent development.”

“And Natasha?” Ali asked, raising a brow.

“What can I say,” the bounce was back in her step as she led Ali down the sidewalk again. “She thinks my jokes are funny.”

Ali bumped their shoulders together. “That makes me question her sense of humor.”

Crossing the threshold of Natasha’s townhouse was like stepping into a magazine. So immaculate it challenged the notion someone lived there. There wasn’t a crumb or dust bunny to be found.

Where Charlotte’s style was refurbished history and carefully curated hand-crafted pieces, Natasha was all high-end designer-brands and custom-built craftsmanship. Classic and crisp white, with pops of gold and blush pink.

“Holy moly,” Wren breathed as they took in the kitchen, her tone touched with awe.

Ali could agree. It was drool-worthy and every surface gleamed from lack of use and regular cleaning.

“Do you think she has a maid?” Wren whispered.

They shared a look and said in unison, smiles creeping into their tones. “Definitely.”

Wren placed her ciders gingerly on the pristine quartz island which dominated the kitchen. In its center, a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers reached up to the lights. Behind them were glass front upper cabinets displaying the glassware and fine china.

Wren rented a small room in a large house due for a renovation. Ali’s apartment was nice but aging. While Natasha’s townhouse was a cozy shoebox in comparison to the family mansion, every finish and piece of furniture screamed luxury and expense.

“Lilah should be here any minute,” Natasha stated, pulling out one of a kind ceramic plates that seemed too fancy for pizza. Ali wondered if Natasha had ever even seen a paper plate before, let alone eaten off one.

“I’m excited to try this pizza,” Wren chirped, popping open a cider with the carabiner bottle opener clipped to her belt.

Natasha pulled out decorative crystal wine glasses for each of them. “It’s the best in the city.”