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“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Your shoes are by the door.”

I stopped. Damn, I didn’t think she’d let me leave that easy.

Klair opened the food container. “You want some wings?”

I turned around. “What kind?”

“Buffalo lemon pepper.”

I put my purse down. “Yeah, give me some.”

“Exactly.”

Five minutes later, I was sitting on her kitchen counter eating wings while she stood across from me building a Lego set. That was why I hated talking to Klair. There was no decorum. You could be discussing your deepest emotional trauma while she searched for a plastic piece of something.

“I don’t want to see his face change.”

Klair didn’t look up. “What?”

“When I tell him.”

She stopped moving.

“I know what that looks like.”

I wiped my fingers. “People can like me. Respect me. Think I’m funny. Talented. Whatever. And then they hear what happened. You can literally see it.”

“See what?”

“The moment I become her.”

Klair’s expression softened. “The homewrecker?”

I nodded. “And I don’t want Nash looking at me like that.”

She sat down.

“I care what he thinks. I really fucking care.”

My eyes burned. “And I hate that I do.”

“Why?”

“Because people can’t hurt your feelings if you don’t give a fuck what they think.”

Klair laughed and went back to her Lego set.

“Sometimes I wish I had friends.”

Her head snapped up. “Bitch.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, actually.” She pointed the little figurine in her hand at me. “Elaborate before I throw this tiny man at you.”