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“Oh, I didn’t do any of this,” Audrey says coolly. “This is all Willa.”

“I’ll be happy to help you, Toni. I love that shit.”

“Great,” I say, hoping I’m hiding my disappointment. “When I get a move-in date, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll need to see the space before, as well,” Willa says. “Come on, I’ll take y’all on a quick tour of the place.”

I don’t want to go. I want to stay and talk to Audrey, but Audrey says she’ll meet us on the deck, and I find myself following Willa and Greta around the townhome. It’s spotless, and everything is in its place. This much order and cleanliness makes my teeth itch. But Greta is in love.

“I need to hire you to redecorate my place,” Greta says.

Willa waves her hand. “I’ll do it for free. Well, maybe a nice bottle of wine now and then.”

“You’re on.”

“It might have to be after I finish this project I’m working on. The company owner is a real micro-manager.”

“God, she sounds awful,” Greta replies.

“You have no idea,” Willa says.

“Is it always this clean?” I ask, feeling surly for no reason I want to admit.

Willa is smiling, but she furrows her brows. Greta scowls behind Willa’s back and mouths, “What the fuck, Toni?”

“We just moved in a week ago and we haven’t been home much this week, so it’s a little more pristine than it normally is. But yeah. Auds and I are both tidy, thank God.”

“Ignore Toni,” Greta says. “She’s used to living in a tent.”

“No worries,” Willa says, leading us up a final flight of stairs. “We haven’t decided what we’re going to do up here, yet. Probably a TV room, though neither of us watch much TV. But this. This is why we bought this place.” Willa opens a sliding glass door to a rooftop deck with an amazing view of downtown Denver.

“Holy shit,” I say.

“Wow,” Greta says. “This is amazing, Willa.”

It’s not a huge space, but it’s big enough for a patio couch, two chairs, and a coffee table. Strings of Edison bulb lights are strung back and forth above the space, producing a cozy ambiance that is enhanced by the downtown view and the low music coming from a hidden speaker.

“We bought it for the view,” Willa says.

“Great location, spectacular view, lots of space. What a great investment,” Greta says.

“That’s what we thought, too. If we ever leave Denver, we can rent it out for a nice sum.”

“You’re thinking of leaving Denver?” I blurt.

“No,” Willa says, drawing out the word. “But we might have projects that take us to different parts of the country for extended periods of time.”

“Oh, right.” I take a huge swig of my beer, feeling the maturity chasm between me and Audrey, Willa, and Greta growing wider every time I open my mouth. I look up, hoping to see the stars but knowing the light pollution will block it.

“I miss it, too,” Greta says, looking up at the sky as well. “I love the city, but I miss the mountain sky at night.” She looks over at me, smiles and dips her chin ever so slightly, the way she used to when I was a kid trying to hang with her and her friends.

She never said things like, “You got this, sis,” because she needed to maintain her competitive, high-achieving reputation at all costs. I never acknowledged it, either, because I needed to make sure the chip on my shoulder that pushed me to be the best stayed firmly in place. It was a silent agreement between the two of us, our secret love language, as fucked up as that sounds. I haven’t gotten that signal from Greta in years. My chest swells with affection. I take another drink to swallow the lump in my throat. Greta looks away, and the moment is gone.

Willa lifts a cloth off the coffee table, revealing a meat and cheese platter like the kind you see in fancy wine bars.

“That looks delicious,” Greta says. “I love a charcuterie board.”

Greta and Willa sit on the couch and chatter on about the different meats and cheeses and debate the best way to build a cracker. Meat or cheese first? Where do you put the jam? They’re good-naturedly debating the different merits of the various layers when Audrey arrives, carrying another beer for me and a new bottle of wine.