Crossing the line
she said, popping the cork before either of us could respond.
The sound was clean. Sharp. Final.
The cork hit the ceiling and bounced off harmlessly, landing somewhere near the bookshelf. None of us moved to retrieve it.
Lila poured generously, her movements precise despite the drama of it all. She handed me the first glass.
“To boundaries,” she said.
I lifted it.
“To distance,” Ethan added quietly.
Lila glanced at him, approving. “Yes. That too.”
We clinked glasses. The sound rang through the apartment light, bright, unmistakably celebratory.