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“That was a really good answer.” Lauren picked up her glass. “Atoast. To getting it right this time.”

“Take two.”

“The more adult version.”

Carly touched her glass to Lauren’s and raised an eyebrow. “Saucy.I like it.”

Lauren blushed. “I didn’t mean like that.”

“Too late. It’s in the history books for all posterity.”

After that little exchange, they seemed to race through dinner. Itwas almost as if they had something more important to get to. Carly commentedon how amazing the pasta was. Lauren mooned over her brined double pork chop,and when they were finished, Carly paid the check, posed for a photo with theserver, and they spilled out into the night. Forty-Sixth Street was bustling,and they huddled together to keep warm. A saxophonist along the sidewalk playeda slow rendition of “It Had to Be You,” making everything feel special,romantic.

“And now?” Carly asked.

“Take me to your place?”

She chuckled. “Not yours?”

“I know you, and you’ll have booked fancier digs. What happened tothe wooing?”

Carly balked. “I’m not a movie star, Lauren. I play games on TVfor a living.”

“Are you staying in a penthouse tonight?”

“Why, yes. Yes, I am.”

Lauren poked her in the ribs, and Carly grinned. “Shall we getyour things first?”

Lauren considered the question. “Well, if you think I’ll needclothes before tomorrow.”

Carly tugged on Lauren’s arm with new purpose. “Definitely not.Let’s go.”

When they came together that night in the dim light of Carly’shotel room, they undressed each other slowly. They took their time with eachkiss, each caress, and each lingering gaze. There seemed to be a newfoundappreciation of what they’d discovered in the other. For Carly, she’d found abest friend, the love of her life, a soul mate. She would cherish Lauren andspend every day making sure she knew that she was the most important aspect ofCarly’s entire life.

“I love you,” Lauren said, as she gazed down into Carly’s eyes.She grinned and touched Lauren’s lips. “So much.”

“Say it again,” Carly whispered, cherishing the words.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I plan to always love you.”

“I love you, too,” Carly said, cupping Lauren’s cheek with onehand. “To the moon and back.”

Epilogue

“What do you think about an entirely gray and white kitchen?”Lauren asked, hands on her hips. They’d been back in LA for a little over twomonths now. WithHomeFireshaving been met with such critical success in New York, theproducers were now mounting an LA run of the show and invited both Lauren andCarly to reprise their roles. There was nothing like satisfying stage work, andwith two shows under her belt now, she looked forward to more. There’d evenbeen a few calls exchanged between producers and agents about her and Carlyreprising their roles as replacements inStarryNightson Broadway. The water was definitely warm these days.

“I like gray,” Carly said, coming out of the bathroom. She had astreak of light blue paint on her cheek, and her hair swept up in a pinkbandana.

Lauren laughed. “You look like Rosie the Riveter if she was awfulat painting a bathroom.” She touched the streak on Carly’s cheek, but nope, itwas already dry. “We can hire someone to do that, you know, if you’restruggling.”

“Struggling?” Carly squeaked. “Have you seen how closely I’vestayed within the painter’s tape? I’m the Van Gogh of bathrooms.”

“Hmm,” Lauren said. “Maybe more like Picasso.”

“Still an artist,” Carly said gleefully.

The three-bedroom home Carly had purchased in Franklin Village waseverything she’d once described it to be: adorable, full of sunlight, andperfectly situated. Now that it was Lauren’s, too, they spent their availabledays off making it uniquely in their joint style. Carly had the big ideas andLauren reined her in, much like other aspects of their lives.