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Shira’s attention wandered as Leo and Ellery went back and forth about art and gaming and what exactly constituted art (spoiler: literally anything could be art). Part of her tracked Danica, making sure she didn’t get too close; a second part of her was fruitlessly seeking out the artist, who was still MIA; and the third was clocking the rest of the room, seeing who was getting close and who else she might know.

Her attention jumped back into the conversation at the sound of Ellery saying the artist’s name. “Oh, there’s Neena.”

“She’s here?” Shira couldn’t see her. “Where?”

“Over there.” When Shira still couldn’t see, Ellery clarified, “With the bright red hair. It’s new.”

That explained why the dark pixie cut was nowhere to be seen. Shira’s heart leaped. One conversation, one photo taken to prove her attendance to her boss in case Neena blew her off, and then she could fake frown and tell Ellery that she was getting a migraine and beat it. One conversation. “My boss asked me to come here and talk our gallery up,” Shira said. “I’m going to go do that before Neena’s all talked out. It was great seeing you!”

“Likewise!” Ellery’s fingers wrapped around Shira’s wrist before she could pull away. “I mean what I said about hanging out. Nora and I want to be friends with both of you.”

And yet somehow that amounted to only talking to her if Shira reached out first, hence the tumbleweeds blowing through the group chat of the three of them Shira had created before realizing she’d lost them to the other. Shira had to stop the sharp laugh from leaping out of her throat and stabbing Ellery in hers. “Sure. Okay.” Ellery’s fingers felt like they might leave stripy burns on Shira’s skin. Shira yanked her arm away, and Ellery let it go.

Shira threw one final grimace in her direction before pulling Leo—whose hand she was still holding, she was almost surprised to find out—toward Neena. “Are you okay?” Leo whispered in her ear as she blazed a path across the room, shouldering through bare sweaty arms and stiff sprayed hair. Shira couldn’t fall apart before doing her professional duty. So she nodded quickly over her shoulder and steamrollered on. Honestly it was all kind of a blur now.

So much of a blur that Shira didn’t realize Danica was also plowing toward Neena until they were both there at her side.

Danica’s gaze met Shira’s, and it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over Shira’s head. Like she was suddenly drenched to the bone, the fabric of Talia’s dress clinging to every lump and bump and exposing them to the room, teeth chattering and hair sticking to her forehead and god. Danica pressed her lips together in acknowledgment, an expression that was polite enough but wasn’t anywhere near a smile, like she was girding herself to eat the dry, overcooked chicken she’d been served for dinner.

Shira tore her eyes away first. She was suddenly fiercely angry, as if the imaginary cold water had woken something in her. She was allowed to be here, too, damn it. She wasn’t going to slink away with her tail between her legs as if she’d done something wrong. Let Danica slink away if she doesn’t want to be around me. “Neena!” Shira said brightly, leaning in for cheek kisses. Neena’s cheeks were sweaty, but she smelled like cinnamon and wine. “It’s been so long!” She pulled back and gestured toward Leo. “This is Leo. Leo, this is Neena, the star of the night.”

“Nice to meet you, Leo. And I know, I can’t believe how long it’s been!” Neena leaned back, her big dark eyes luminescent with interest. “I heard you were working at the Michael Spiro Gallery. That true?” Shira nodded, and Neena clasped her hands together. “And you got promoted recently, didn’t you? Most of the people I know who even managed to get a job at a gallery, which is hard enough, washed out as an assistant.” Was that jealousy in her eyes? “Amazing.”

That familiar glow of pride washed through Shira. See, that was why she couldn’t “just quit”—what would people say if she talked about her job then? A polite nod with glazed eyes? All that work, wasted. All that potential, wasted. Heads shaking behind her back.

“It’s an exciting place to work.” Danica’s presence was like a spider crawling on the back of Shira’s neck. Shira fixed her smile on, focusing on Neena and the feel of Leo’s hand strong in hers. “Not to jump right to business, but my boss is really intrigued by your work. I know he’d love to set up a call with you.”

“Okay, wow,” Neena said, breathless. Shira wished she could focus only on the artist, but Danica was still hovering there at their side, a small polite smile on her face, and Shira could read her mind as clearly as if her thoughts were written on her forehead, because they were the same as Shira’s. Can’t slink away. Can’t let her win. “Yeah, totally. Though I am working with a different gallery right now. I don’t want it to seem like I’m unhappy with them or anything.”

Shira kept that smile pasted on her face, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. Just don’t look at Danica, don’t look at Danica. “Of course. And I don’t want to make it seem like we’re trying to poach you or anything.” This was why her boss had sent her to open up this delicate avenue of conversation: a former friend and classmate, in person, casually bringing it up. Nothing formal or in writing. “It’s just a talk.”

“Absolutely. Do you still have my number?” Shira probably did somewhere in her phone, but she shook her head, allowing Neena to slip her a business card. “Looking forward to it!”

“I know he is, too.” There. Her task was done. She couldn’t just run off now, though, or it would look like the only reason she’d come was for this. “I love this show, seriously. The lacework motif is so gorgeous and meaningful. I love how you combined sewing work with your painting.”

“It’s based on my grandmother’s work.” Neena beamed, then looked between Shira and Danica. “Seems to be a trend nowadays! Weren’t your debut shows based on your grandmas’ stories? I loved seeing your posts pop up on my timeline!”

“Yes!” Danica said. “I’ve been working on my show for years and years, practically since I was a kid. It’s really my whole heart.”

Like she’d put more of her heart into her show than Shira had? Or that the fact that Shira had only started working on her show after college made it less authentic or important? Shira gritted her teeth. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. But she couldn’t resist. Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Neena, she said, “How funny that you also based work on your grandma’s life! It’s almost like more than one person can make art about their grandma at a time.”

Neena laughed, but Shira could feel Leo tense up behind her. He knew her well enough to hear the blade in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m happy with how well mine’s been selling.” Danica’s voice was icy cold. She was also staring determinedly at Neena, a muscle ticcing in her angular jaw. “Great reviews, too. And I don’t want to jinx anything, but since the show’s been so successful, my representation has been in talks for some really exciting things.”

“Moving onward and upward!” Neena said with an airy laugh.

Shira might actually grind her teeth into sand. “I’ve been so happy with the reception for mine as well!” Neena’s smile was now beginning to falter. “Especially from my family, since so much of the show is drawn from my family history and my childhood. That’s what my sister told me, actually, after she saw it. That it was like looking through a window back into our childhood.”

Neena was now glancing back and forth between the two of them, her brow furrowed in confusion. Stop it, Shira told herself sternly, because if she upset Neena, then her boss would be furious. “Well,” Neena said uncertainly. “It sounds really good. Both of them do. I wish I’d gotten to see them in person instead of just online.”

The sound that escaped Shira’s throat was a little bit maniacal, and this time, she turned right to Danica as she spoke. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell much about a show from a few shots online or a few words about it, right?”

“It’s enough to know the basics,” Danica spit back, and Neena shrank away, and Leo’s arm draped itself over Shira’s shoulders with the calming power of a purring cat.

“Hey, Shir,” he said casually. “We should probably head out. We don’t want to miss the book party.”

There it was: an excuse. She seized it with both hands and held it tight to her chest. “You’re right,” she said, turning to Neena and leaning in for a brief hug. “It was so good to see you! I’m glad I made it tonight. Your work is amazing. And I’ll email you or text you to set up that phone call.”