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“I know.” She winks, smiling.

Sanjay comes with a tray full of coffees and treats. “I took the liberty of preparing your usuals, ladies.”

“He’s a godsend.” Cora sighs blissfully and takes her cup of Americano.

“What’s going on, Saar?” Celeste asks, leaving no room for deflection. “You’ve been avoiding us, and you’re clearly in your I-don’t-care-about-anyone phase that flares up when you’re struggling with something.”

“Thank you for your unsolicited psych analysis,” I grumble, sagging in my chair.

“Case in point,” Cora deadpans.

I shake my head. I shouldn’t have come here. “I can’t talk about it. I was right staying alone until I figure it out.”

“Or maybe you don’t have to hide and let us help,” Lily suggests, making me feel even worse for teasing her.

“Okay, spill it.” Celeste pokes me with her elbow, always ready to offer some tough love. “You will feel better.”

“We won’t judge you,” Cora reminds me.

I know they won’t, but that doesn’t make it easier to accept the current mess of my life. I cradle my cup of latte, staring at the white foam for a few moments.

“Fuck it. My accountant…” I look at Celeste. “You can’t tell any of this to Cal.”

Her face softens with compassion. She was my friend before she married my brother. Why do I keep forgetting that? I can trust her. I can trust these women.

I still can’t face them, so I look down at my untouched cup. “My accountant embezzled from me; I’m broke. To access my trust fund, I have to be married. My manager found me a groom.” I finally lift my gaze. “I’m getting married. Ta-da.” I raise my arms above my head.

I giggle nervously, bracing for their contempt, judgment, or disappointment.

“Fuck,” Lily says, shaking her head.

“When did the marriage part happen?” Cora asks.

“What do you mean? You knew about the rest?” Celeste’s eyes dart between us.

“I knew about the money, and that she worries she will have duck lips.” Give it to Cora to help smooth the edges of a difficult topic. Or just bring some levity.

Lily snorts, spitting out some of her beverage. She pounds her fist on her chest. “What are duck lips?”

“What you get when you go to those discount places in the malls to inject you with collagen,” I explain.

Around the table, my friends’ features are wary from being shocked, surprised, compassionate, and perhaps indignant on my behalf. I don’t quite understand why I feel so uncomfortable sharing with them.

I grew up in a house where my father would punish me for showing any weakness or making a mistake. He would ridicule me, berate me, or ignore me for weeks if he was displeased with me.

I worked for years in an environment where my needs and ideas were not relevant. Where my willingness to follow simple orders was rewarded. Where I was more a prop than a person.

She’s not a prop.

Corm’s indignation on my behalf, his defense shocked me. Nobody. Nobody ever stood up for me like that.

Vito might have sometimes, but he mostly tried to rebuild my dignity after work. My manager helped me grow a thicker skin. Perhaps become too indifferent. I guess I’m a survivor after all.

But Corm, whom I’ve never even tried to be nice to, stood up for me. And I don’t know what to do with that. I didn’t need a knight to save me, but when one showed up, it formed a crack in my cynical wall.

So I responded the only way I could: I rebelled. I don’t want to be grateful to him. I don’t want to be impressed by his actions. I don’t want to be thinking about him. Period.

“Okay, let’s back up here.” Celeste turns to me, her chair squeaking as she tries to maneuver her body to angle it properly. She looks at me with so much love I almost recoil. “Thank you for trusting us, and sharing with us.”