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“You’re impossible.” But I’m smiling now, too. The tension of the evening finally dissolving completely.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“I do.” I rest my head on her shoulder again, grateful for this friendship that has weathered every storm. “Thanks for bringing me home with you tonight.”

“Always.” She squeezes my hand, her grip warm and familiar. “Though next time you and Lucas have relationship drama, can we do it somewhere I’m not wearing a designer gown? This fabric was not made for comfort eating.”

“Deal.” I reach for the ice cream again, scraping the sides for the melting goodness.

We spend the next hour critiquing gala fashion choices (“Did you see Mrs. Bradshaw’s fascinator? It looked like a peacock mated with a chandelier!”) and planning Sophie’s next “accidental” setup for Natalie and Mike from R&D. It’scomfortable and familiar, this friendship that’s seen us through everything from college applications to corporate takeover attempts.

I find myself relaxing on the couch, the events of the evening settling into perspective. Brighton’s offer, Clara’s manipulations, and even Lucas’s misstep—all of it feels more manageable after Sophie’s unique brand of friendship therapy.

“Em?” Sophie says as we finish the ice cream, the carton nearly empty, save for a few green streaks.

“Yeah?”

“I’m so happy you’re going to be my sister. Officially.” Her voice carries none of its usual teasing, only genuine warmth.

My heart expands. “Me too. Though technically, Lucas hasn’t proposed yet.”

Her grin turns mischievous, the earlier sincerity giving way to classic Sophie scheming. “Want to bet on when he does?”

“Sophie!”

My phone buzzes with a text from Lucas:Missing you. The house feels too quiet without your color-coded chaos.

I smile, typing back:Missing you too. Though Sophie’s been an excellent substitute for critiquing gala fashion choices.

Lucas:Not the same.Please tell my sister the photos she’s sending of you two comfort-eating in evening wear are adorable.

“You’re sending him photos?” I throw another pillow at Sophie, who catches it deftly.

“Someone had to document this historic moment of post-gala wine and ice cream therapy.” She takes another picture as I check my hair self-consciously, knowing I must look a mess with my carefully styled updo now half-collapsed. “Though maybe we should clean you up before you head to your parents’ tomorrow?”

“They’ve seen worse.” I laugh, remembering when I showed up for Sunday lunch covered in printer toner after an ill-advised attempt to change the cartridge myself. “Besides, Mom’s been asking for a full report on the gala and recent developments.”

“By developments, you mean my brother finally getting his act together?” Sophie waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Among other things.” Like Brighton’s offer, which I haven’t fully processed yet myself. My phone buzzes again.

Lucas:Tell Sophie to stop hogging my girlfriend. Though maybe get some sleep first - you were amazing tonight.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Sophie observes as I blush. “Now, go get changed. I laid out your emergency pajamas in the guest room. The ones with the sustainable technology slogans you left here last girls’ night.”

I hug her tight, overwhelmed with gratitude for this friendship. “Thanks for tonight. The wine, the ice cream, the friendship therapy...”

“Always. I love you.” She squeezes back. “And if you need help hiding Clara’s body after your next encounter, I know people.”

“Sophie!”

“Kidding! Mostly.” She winks. “Goodnight, Em.”

“I love you too. Goodnight.”

***

The next morning, Sophie hands me coffee in my favorite mug with color-coded temperature indicators that I’d left at her place years ago. She’s already dressed for her Sunday spin class, looking unfairly put-together despite our late night.