The mess could stay.

The evening could go on looking imperfect.

The person who had spent eight years making sure nothing looked imperfect was going downstairs to put on a plain black dress and walk into a room where, for once, she would not be the one holding everything together for everyone else’s comfort.

She would simply arrive as herself, and let the arriving be the whole of it.

Chapter 5 — What Success Looks Like

In Manhattan, Crispin was doing exactly what he’d said he needed to do: look successful.