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All other chatter stopped as everyone turned to Annalise for details. She shrugged. “It’s the funniest story, actually. You know how Nan is constantly going on the worst dates? Well her latest one ended so badly that both Nan and the guy she was on a date with ended up calling friends for backup. Long story short, Jeri went to get Nan and ended up hitting it off really well with this guy’s sister. So they’re at Rusty’s.”

I grinned. “I hope they date for months.”

Annalise grinned right back. “It will be so nice to finally shovel her shit back at her!”

Talk turned to Kristin’s life as a rockstar and what it was like to tour the world. Then it twisted around Marley’s writer’s block and Zoe offering her advice to get past it. Olivia asked to see my cameras.

“They’re in the guest room.” I flicked on the light and waved Olivia and Charley inside.

“May I open them?” Olivia asked, her hand hovering over the furthest case.

“Knock yourself out.” The bed was covered with the cameras I tended to use more often, while the ones I used for special occasions were lined up along the wall.

Charley went to one of those. “Dude. Good old-fashioned Pentax K1000!” She held the 35mm film camera to her eye and looked through the viewfinder. “My grandfather had one. Wait, do you use this?”

“Strange as it sounds, yes, I do still shoot on film sometimes.”

“How do you get it developed?” She turned it over in her hand, examining the wear and tear.

“Believe it or not, I do it myself. In the bathroom, just like in the old days.” My grandmother loved photography. She was the one who first got me to look at the world through a camera. I used to love sitting in the dark bathroom while she dipped photography paper into pans and made pictures appear like magic.

From there I found a new love behind a video camera. I was fascinated by how you could make the same thing look completely different simply by using a different camera, lens, or shutter speed. There were hundreds of ways to capture something, so knowing how and what each was capable of was my first major goal. The rest was magic.

Olivia held up my favorite 8mm camera. “You’re not still using this are you?”

“Sometimes. 8mm and Super8 both have a very distinctive look that is nostalgic and familiar. If I’m trying to connect with an older audience or get the feel for an event that took place several decades ago, it can be a good option. Even now.” Not that I used it frequently. Mostly for fun. But there had been a project or two where it came in handy.

“I always found moving pictures confusing.” Olivia shook her head. “I’m a single image person. There is so much I want to convey. So many details that get overlooked in our fast-paced world. When I can get it to stop for a second, that’s where I find my passion.”

Which I totally understood. The formats were so closely tied and yet so very different. “I had a mentor once compare it to poems versus longer prose. A poem often captures so many things with so few words. And the words it uses often have multiple meanings within the same work. Whereas when you write something longer, an essay or even a novel, you’re using many words, many times to convey the same thing to the reader so they can see it from different angles.”

“Interesting,” she muttered, replacing the camera. “I guess I’m a visual poet then.”

“And I am not,” Charley laughed. “Cool collection. I think I’ll stick to my editing bay.”

“You’re really good at it.” I flicked off the light and closed the door. It was fun to show off my cameras to fellow visual artists but it got me down in my feels so I grabbed my wine and went onto the balcony for some fresh air.

And of course Charley followed me out. “This is a really nice place. Butler’s got taste.”

“It’s not really my style but it is nice.”

“Your style wouldn’t happen to be Brady Bunch mansions or maybe island chic, would it?”

I shot her a look. It was harder than ever to keep Everett a secret now that we were sleeping together. “We’re having a lovely dinner party. Must we devolve into conversations about our love lives?”

That must have been the wrong thing to say because Charley grinned. “For one, we’ve had plenty of talk about industry, creativity, and business. You, I might add, were just waxing nostalgic about poetry and photography. Sure we mixed in a little gossip about Jeri, but that was necessary. What’s wrong with also having real conversations about our love lives? Deep intimate connections are important too, Willa. Not just professional ones.”

I winced. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now tell me how the sex is.”

I shot her another look.

She stared right back. When I didn’t break she sighed. “You’re a combination of deliriously happy and itchingly anxious. You, my friend, have hit that and it was good and now you’re mooning like a lovesick fool that he’s out of town.”

She was right. I hated that she was right.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s not my story to tell. I just wanted you to know I’m really happy for you. For you both. It can’t be easy keeping all this a secret. I sure as shit know how secrets can eat at someone.”