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assistant district attorney.  No one would accuse us of stalking.”
    “Forget that you know any of this.” She watched Marc stop and talk to a cute blonde. 
    “You can’t ignore that he’s here,” Jane said. “I agree with Sela. You said you wanted a do-over and you don't say those kinds of things.  It must mean something. Let’s find out where he’s at...you can buy him a drink.”
    “I saw him, he made it clear he hates me, and that’s that.” Her fingers toyed with the ring that should have been her wedding ring...could have been. She caught her lower lip between her teeth.
    “You’re not convincing me. You should see yourself right now, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sela said. 
    “ It feels like I have.” The silent scream returned to claw at the inside of her throat.  Restlessness curled beneath her skin. "This is stupid. Let's not talk about it anymore. It's not a big deal. My soon-to-be-promotion is a big deal, let's focus on that. How was your day?"
    “ Not as exciting as yours. I sat second chair on an identity theft ring trial," Sela said while texting Miranda. "We need to find out where they're having dinner."
    “ Let it go, I said.” An ache throbbed in her chest. 
    “ Why do you look so guilty? What exactly happened between the two of you that you're not telling us?” Sela snapped her gaze to hers. 
    "This isn't up for debate." She looked away from Sela and smiled at Jane, a high school counselor, and asked, "How was your week? Any teen dramas you care to share with us?"
    Marc sat the tray on the table with an elaborate flourish. “Tequila shots for my ladies.”
    “Aren’t you having one?” she asked, but he had already abandoned them for a cute blonde. 
    She watched Marc work his magic with the other woman and couldn't help but think of their long relationship and the secrets they kept for one another. When had life become so complicated?
    The tequila burned her thro at more than she had expected. She coughed and shook her head. No. Wrong move. She needed to get drunk at home. Alone. That way when she made an idiot of herself no one would witness it.
    “I need to go . Long day.” Without waiting for a response, she pushed away from the table, grabbed her things, and bolted out the door. 
    This time she opted for a taxi over a walk. A little buzzed, she stepped over Sam’s mountain bike leaning haphazardly across the stairs.
    The building had been divided into four apartments, with the two upstairs boasting a second floor.  She had turned her top floor into an art studio and workspace . She'd inherited the entire place from her grandmother and used the rent from the tenants to cover the upkeep. Many people encouraged her to sell it and move someplace more modern with less hassle, but her grandmother had been the one good thing about her childhood and she couldn't imagine letting the building go. 
    Opening the door, she kicked off her shoes, dropped her bag where she stood and left a trail of clothing on the hardwood floor leading to the bedroom. Never known for tidiness behind closed doors, she dug through her closet floor until she found a pair of sweatpants splattered with paint and a neon pink tank top with a frayed hem.
    Barefoot and comfortable, she walked to the kitchen and poured herself a tall glass of ice water. Everything familiar now felt foreign. The blue walls she had painted years ago, framed artwork of her own creation, photographs of friends lining the tables, the oversized red chair she had had since college…all of it seemed out-of-place. Even standing in the kitchen felt wrong. Her skin trembled with discomfort, as if her bones no longer fit her skeleton. 
    Too tired to sleep and too rattled to relax, she grabbed a bottle of wine and jogged up the stairs to the second story. This had been Sela's domain during their roommate days. She'd been in graduate school while Sela had gone to law school.  Now it was her sacred space, her art space. She