“Come on, Lau. It’s been ages since we last saw everybody.”

Vienna’s voice crackled through the phone, bright and coaxing, like she was already smiling on the other end. I pinched the bridge of my nose, staring at the half-finished sketch on my table—charcoal smudges, unresolved lines, a face I’d been avoiding finishing for days.

“I’m busy, you know,” I said, a little too quickly. “I fly back to Florence in two weeks. I still have revisions for the exhibit catalogue. And meetings. And—”

“And excuses,” Vienna cut in gently, not unkind, just honest. “You’ve been back in the country for three weeks, Laura. You’ve seen galleries, curators, clients. But...