I stood in front of the small, spotted mirror in the safe house bathroom, studying my own reflection like it belonged to a stranger I was trying to get a read on, and tried to decide what kind of woman was supposed to look back at me by the time this was over.
Sofia leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching with the same assessing look she seemed to reserve for anything she considered a tactical problem worth solving properly.
"You're going," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I don't know yet."
"You're going." She pushed off the doorframe, came to stand behind me in the mirror, both of us looking at the same reflection from slightly different angles. "It's Charlotte's birthday. Whatever else that party is, it's also the one day a year that's actually supposed to be about her.
