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“No, it’s a long story, how that came up.” I pursed my lips. “Why do I feel guilty about this?”

“Because you haven’t dated since Brandon. Because you’re like a hermit. You remind me of those veiled Italian widows from the Old World, wearing black and lighting Virgin Mary candles, shuffling around with their rosaries and—”

I hit her with a throw pillow and she laughed.

“Seriously, Sloan. You’re a hot bombshell. You’re beautiful and talented, and you deserve to be happy again. This recluse stuff is bullshit.”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel.”

“No, I mean it, Sloan. Josh and I talked about this a few days ago. We’re staging an intervention. We decided that once the two-year mark hit, we weren’t going to let you continue to make your life a shrine to Brandon. Enough is enough.”

I looked at her tiredly. “I don’t choose to feel like this, Kristen.”

“Like hell you don’t. You used to be one of the most driven people I know. You had galleries fighting over your work.” She looked around the living room, and when her eyes fell on my most recent commissioned artwork, she turned to me accusatorily. “This is the shit I’m talking about. What is that? A fucking astronaut cat?”

I had the sense to look abashed.

“You’re a crazy-talented artist. Look at the crap you’re painting. You choose this.”

I sighed. She was right. She was right about all of it.

“Do shit that makes you happy. Why don’t you paint something you like? Paint Tucker.” She shook her head at me. “And that guy? You should climb him like a tree. Or at the very least shake his branches. See what kind of nuts fall out.”

I laughed. Then I bit my lip. “Okay. You’re right. I will try.”

“You need to get laid. Find a guy who’ll fuck you like he just got out of prison. Oh! Let’s get you a Brazilian wax!” she said suddenly. “Let’s vagazzle you! We’ll make your vagina shiny and new!”

I recoiled in horror and her eyes danced mischievously.

“Oh my God, no.”

“Yes. My treat. I want the cobwebs yanked off that thing.”

My eyelid twinged. “You are awful.”

“I pushed a small human out of this body. My vagina is destroyed. I have to live vicariously through your vagina.”

We both giggled.

“If I agree, will you stop saying ‘vagina’?”

* * *

Kristen stayed until almost 11:00 p.m. I’d sent Jason a quick text asking him if I’d made his zombie survival team. He’d said I had. That was the last of our back-and-forth for the day.

The next morning, Tucker woke me up at 7:30. That was another good thing about Tucker, he got me out of bed. He always wanted to be let out before 8:00 and he made sure I knew it. After I took him out, I couldn’t ever get back to sleep, so I stayed up and started my day. I used to sleep until noon, sometimes later. I liked the earlier routine. It gave me more sunlight hours, and the sun perked me up.

To my surprise my phone vibrated at exactly 9:00 a.m. It was Jason.

I wondered if he’d waited until 9:00 on purpose, so he wouldn’t text me too early. It made me smile to think he’d sat there watching the time, waiting for the exact moment it would be acceptable to text.

Jason:You up?

Sloan:I am. Your dog doesn’t sleep in. What time is it there?

Jason:2:00 a.m., Thursday. Just got back to the hotel. Wednesday there, right?

Sloan:Yup. Late night for you.