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Eric dumps his backpack by the door. “Mom, Jen took me to that trampoline park yesterday! I did a double backflip!”

“That's amazing, baby.” She ruffles his hair, shooting a grateful look at Jen.

Jen sets the pastry bag on the table. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”

Wren and I speak at the same time.

“I’ll make eggs?—”

“Let me help with?—”

We both freeze.

Jen blinks. “Okay… that wasn’t weird at all.”

A loud laughter rolls out of Wren. “It’s just… gala brain. We’re still recovering.”

Jen sips her coffee, her eyes darting between us with undisguised curiosity. “It was that bad?”

“Bad? No. I mean, it was good. Very good. I mean, nottoogood. Just normal. Business normal.”

I nod, settling into a sofa.

“That’s right. We met… people,” I attempt, earning a bizarre look from Jen.

“Important people,” Wren adds.

Jen narrows her eyes. “Glad to know you met people there and not trees.”

“Wren read some man to filth last night. You should've seen his face by the time she was done,” I say, diverting her attention from our awkwardness.

“No way? Tell me about it.”

“It was that insufferable Ian Geller,” Wren says.

Jen giggles.

“That man had it coming.”

“Right? Now, I hope he leaves me alone. I can't stand him.”

“And we got some exciting news too. Maxwell Pierce is scheduling a meeting next week to discuss funding for Lemon.”

“Now, that’s wonderful news!” Jen claps her hands together. “Congratulations, Wren.”

“Sean was very helpful.” Wren smiles, busying herself with the coffee cups.

She starts talking about seating arrangements at the gala, and I chime in about lighting, which makes no sense, and thenshe says something about deviled eggs that weren’t at the event at all.

I smile to myself.

Jen stands with her hands on her waist, eyeing us. “Why do I feel like there's something you two aren't telling me?”

“We're just tired,” Wren says.

“Late night.”

Jen's eyebrows shoot up at my comment. “I see.”