“Great. Treat yourself to a mani-pedi tomorrow,” Sam deadpanned.

“Seriously. I’m not supposed to borrow anything from your family.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Says who, the fashion police?”

“Robert said it, when he came to my house with a nondisclosure agreement!”

Sam fell still at that. Her grip closed over one of the felt-lined hangers, so tight that she almost snapped it. No wonder Nina thought that the Washingtons made her feel small.

“Forget Robert. He has no business telling you what to do. And if he says anything, I’ll fire him.”

“I’m not sure you have the authority to do that,” Nina replied, though she was almost smiling.

“Please.” Sam drew the word out so that it was two syllables. “Just try on a few things? You’re my oldest friend in the world, and you have never let me dress you up, not like this.”

“You’re taking advantage of my desperation,” Nina complained, but she obediently unzipped her dress and pulled on the first gown that Samantha held toward her, a slinky cobalt one covered in sequins.

“So what if I am?” Sam grinned, sliding various dresses along the titanium rods of the closet. “Are you really going to deprive me of something that brings me such joy?”

“You just like doing this because it gives you a semblance of control in a chaotic world.” Nina twisted so that Sam could pull up the zipper for her.

Sam was caught off guard by the insight. But before she could answer, Nina turned back around to face her. Her cheeks were bright with color, her eyes sparkling.

“I really missed you, Sam.”

It was enough to halt Samantha’s hurricane of motion. She froze, dresses sliding out of her arms to tumble in a heap to the floor.

She stepped over the couture as if it were a pile of Kleenex and enfolded her friend in a hug. “I hated fighting with you.”

“It was the worst!” Nina exclaimed. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you like that. It wasn’t fair of me. I just felt so rattled, by the paparazzi and all those commenters.”

Sam took a step back. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about the way I’ve treated you. I’m really sorry,” she said fervently. “I hate that I made you feel that way.”

“A lot of it wasn’t your fault.”

“Still. Will you tell me how I can do better, moving forward?”

Nina smiled. “Right now you can watch me work through this enormous stack of gowns, and provide running commentary.”

“That, I can definitely do,” Sam assured her, and began to collect the scattered gowns from the carpet.

What a relief to know that with everything else going wrong in the world, this was one thing that had managed to right itself, after all.

As Nina tried on one dress after another, she and Samantha caught up on everything they had missed over the past several weeks: Nina’s reconciliation with Jeff, and the fact that Nina had gone shopping with Daphne.

“That’s really weird,” Sam said bluntly. “Ex-girlfriends don’t just go shopping with current girlfriends, not of their own free will.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Who knows, maybe she hoped someone would report the whole thing to the tabloids, and it would make her look good.”

That was certainly plausible, but Sam couldn’t help thinking there was more to the story. It felt a little too convenient to be a complete coincidence.

“Besides,” Nina added, lifting an eyebrow, “you have no room to talk. I seem to remember you taking shots with Daphne on New Year’s Eve.”

Sam laughed; she’d almost forgotten about that. “Only because I couldn’t find you!” she protested.

Though it had been kind of fun, trying to peel back the layers of impeccable behavior that encased Daphne like armor.

“What about you, Sam?” Nina asked. “Are you okay, with all the news about Beatrice and Teddy?”

Sam nodded slowly. “Beatrice and I talked. It turns out we’ve both misunderstood each other for a while. As for Teddy …” Her voice caught a little; then she forged on. “I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled about it, but Beatrice has her reasons for marrying him. And it’s not like I can stop her. So I’m trying to get over it, as best as I can. Finding things to distract myself with. Speaking of which …” She looked at Nina’s gown, which was covered in fluffy pom-poms along the bottom, and choked out a laugh. “You look like cotton candy that went through a shredder. Next.”

“You and Beatrice are friends now?” Nina shook her head as she stepped out of the offending dress. “Just how long have we not been talking?”

“Too long.”

“What caused you guys to make up? Did you find a common enemy or something?”

Yep. My dad’s cancer.

Sam bit her lip against the words. She wanted to tell Nina about her dad’s prognosis. She’d wanted to call and spill everything to her best friend from the very first moment she heard the news.

While unloading that secret might make her feel better, it also felt unbelievably selfish. It wasn’t really Sam’s secret to share. And honestly, she didn’t want to put the weight of her dad’s illness on another person’s shoulders. Especially Nina’s—not after everything she had recently been through.