“I’ve got a lot to arrange.”
I pushed the blue mug toward her.
She moved it away.
Six inches.
It was such a small gesture, and somehow I remember it more clearly than what followed.
“Lauren.”
She looked at me.
“Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“Nothing.”
“I’ve asked you three times whether I should alter my dress.
You won’t answer.
I haven’t been included in the photograph schedule, and I still don’t know where I’m supposed to sit.”
She rubbed her thumb against her index finger.
“You’ll be fine.”