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And then that song ended and the next one began. But it didn’t matter. When Mandy and Isa were together, nothing else mattered at all. They were each other’s shield from anything that could hurt them. When one of them felt weak, the other would give them some of their strength.

“I love you for real,” Mandy said.

“I love you for real back,” Isa responded.

It never occurred to Mandy to go back inside to find V. Mandy was exactly where she was supposed to be. With her best friend.

Chapter Twelve

December 2006

Mandy lay on herbed under the covers, laptop perched on her chest. She couldn’t sleep. When she had finally climbed into bed hours after Isa made her appearance, she’d needed to talk to someone. With the eight-hour time difference, Mandy didn’t worry about waking Sophie. It had been only a couple of weeks since Mandy had gotten home, but it felt like an eternity since she had seen her friend.

“You can’t do this to yourself again,” Sophie said.

“I know.” And Mandy did, but at the same time, she couldn’t help all the feelings from swirling in her gut like the murky water in her brush-cleaning jar. The image of Isa standing in her garage, there and then not, was etched in her mind. “What if I just—”

“What if you just what? Built a time machine and went back in time, then what? What would you really change?”

Everything. Nothing.

“Would you really not ever have come here?”

Europe was the worst and best thing Mandy had ever done. Sophie wasn’t saying these things to be mean; she was saying them because they were what Mandy needed to hear. “You’re right.” Mandy tugged on a loose thread on her duvet, wrapping it around her finger until the tip turned red. “I just—”

“No.” Sophie’s voice was firm. “That’s all in the past. Now tell me more about this painting project you’re working on.” Sophie perched her head on her hands and leaned closer to the screen.

Oh, how Mandy wished she could reach out and grab her. Sophie’s hugs could bring world peace.

“I’m not trying to be a tosser,” Sophie said.

“I know.”

“If you really want to talk about it, we can.” Sophie’s eyes softened.

“No. You’re right.” Mandy did want to talk about it, but at the same time she didn’t. Some scars were just deeper than others and took longer to heal. As much work as Mandy had done, she still needed more time. She sat up a little taller in bed and adjusted her laptop. “How’s Finny? Planning his wedding yet?”

Sophie laughed. “Not yet. But soon, I think. Rafe says he’s in denial.”

“Rafe is good too, then?”

Sophie shrugged. “It’s fine. He’s fine. Blimey, I didn’t tell you. You’ll never guess who came into the shop today…” Sophie named some celebrity Mandy had never heard of—but seeing how excited Sophie was, Mandy wasn’t about to question it. “Remember that scene inThe Devil Wears Prada—where Nigel kept throwing all those things at Andy and she had to juggle them? It was just like that! Her poor assistant, however, handled it like apro. It was incredible, and she walked out spending almost ten thousand pounds. My next commission check is going to be cracking.”

“That’s awesome. And it’ll get you one step closer to world domination.” Mandy rubbed her hands together and did her best evil laugh.

“Damn right.” Sophie had big plans to start her own line, and that required a certain amount of money before she could really launch it, which was why she was working at a “posh” boutique that didn’t really match her own aesthetic.

“Have they noticed you’re wearing, like, the same three outfits on rotation there?”

Sophie laughed. “Oh, they noticed. And Jacquié even offered to give me an extra ten percent off.”

“She did not.”

“She did. And you should’ve seen the look on her face when I told her no.”

“Oh my god. You’re so bad,” Mandy said.

Sophie shrugged, but the smug look on her face said she really didn’t care.