“Move your hands. Let me get that,” Zara says, shifting my hands away from the buttons on my top.

My hands have been shaking badly ever since I tried to put it on.

“I’m so fucking terrified, Zara. What if I faint in there today?”

“Then I’ll be right there to catch you,” she drags me, not even looking up from the button she’s fixing.

“And I’ll tell everyone you were so overcome by your own brilliance you had to take a dramatic nap.”

A weak laugh slips out ...