"Stop," Erin cuts in, at the exact same moment I lean closer for details.
Poppy rolls her eyes and gives Erin a stern look.
"...headboard," she finishes.
"Go on," I say, ignoring Erin, who throws a handful of petals at me like that's going to shut me up.
"It's just a headboard, girl," she says dismissively.
”Ruth asked Lily about lip filler," Erin announces, clearly desperate to change the subject.
"She called it botox," I add.
"Classic Ruth." Poppy doesn't miss a beat. "Last month she asked me if I'd had my cheekbones shaved."
"Shaved?"
"She saw something on 'the apps'."
"Ruth has social media?"
"Ruth is on everything." Poppy pulls her legs up onto the stool, getting comfortable. "She has a Reddit account."
I set my scissors down. "That's terrifying."
"The username has 'diner' in it. She's not even anonymous."
Growing up, the closest thing I had to girlfriends was the occasional researchers' kids at whatever dig site my parents were parked at that year. Temporary people in temporary places. You'd get close over a few months, promise to stay in touch, then we'd all pack up and you'd never hear from them again.
I learned early not to hold on too strong. Learned that connection was always on loan.
This is different. Erin and Poppy aren't going anywhere. They're rooted here, in this town, in this shop, in each other. They pulled me in last summer like I'd always been there. No audition or probation period. Just: you're one of us now, sit down, have some wine, tell us everything.
I didn't know friendship could feel like that. Like nobody was going anywhere.
"You look good, Lil." Poppy's watching me now.
”Ruth would agree," Erin adds. "Suspiciously good, apparently."
I roll my eyes, but Poppy shakes her head.
"No, I mean it. You look good. Rested. Less like you're running on caffeine and panic."
She's right. I spent the last four months of undergrad sleeping maybe five hours a night, running on iced lattes and adrenaline, finishing my thesis while my body slowly tried to shut itself down.
By December I was so burned out I couldn't read a menu without my eyes glazing over. Couldn't form sentences, couldn't think. All I could do was burst into tears at any given moment about nothing and everything.
Rome noticed, but he thought once he was back in Chicago, everything would sort itself out. That I'd finish school, power through, keep going. That was Rome's answer for everything. Keep going. Push harder. Don't stop.
It was Erin who'd supported me when I said I needed to stop. Erin who'd told Rome that I get to make this call. That had sadly started the worst fight they'd ever had. He came back from Harbor Hill with a broken heart and a sister who'd chosen a gap year against his advice.
He came around, eventually. Accepted the break. Accepted Harbor Hill over traveling, even though he didn't understand it. Found me the apartment because that was what Rome did. Even when he disagreed with you, he made sure you were safe while you did the thing he thought was wrong.
Harbor Hill has Erin, Poppy, Ruth, the flower shop, the slow, easy rhythm of a town that doesn't ask me to be anything other than here. But it also has Rome, and that matters more than the rest of it. Even if I'd never say that to his face.
I need to be close to him. He's been my rock for as long as I can remember. Even when he drives me crazy. Even when he hovers and pushes and tries to steer my life from the passenger seat. He's the one person who has never left, not once.
"I feel good," I tell Poppy, and I mean it.
