Scarlett’s condo is on the forty-second floor and has a view of Lake Michigan that is aggressively unfair. The city spreads out below in a sprawl of gold and white light, the lake a flat dark void beyond it, and I stand at the window for ten seconds before Piper presses a glass of wine into my hand and steers me toward the couch.
“You look like you’ve been reasoning with yourself for seventy-two hours,” she says.
“I’m fine.”
“You said that with the energy of someone who is extremely not fine.”
Sophie appears from the kitchen carrying a charcuterie board the size of a small country and sets it on the coffee table with the authority of someone who has strong opinions about cheese. Harper is already tucked into the corner of the sectional with her knees drawn up, glass balanced on them, watching me the way she watches things — silently, completely, as if she’s already arrived at a conclusion and is waiting for me to catch up.
Scarlett tops off my wine like she’s legally responsible for everyone’s emotional support levels tonight. “Okay,” she says, tucking one leg beneath herself on the enormous sectional. “Now that Toni survived benching Max Stevens in public, and the fire alarm in a towel, we can finally discuss the important thing.”
Ialready distrust that tone. “Which is?”
“How long before you climb him?”
“Trey,” Sophie says without missing a beat, “your wife is harassing the guests again.”
From the kitchen island, Trey barely glances up from helping Knox open another beer. “As long as she’s hydrated while doing it, I support her hobbies.” Scarlett raises her glass in salute.
I stare at all of them. “Is everyone in this organization insane?”
“Yes,” Harper says calmly from the armchair. “You adjust surprisingly fast.”
Piper curls deeper into the couch beside me, grinning. “You should’ve seen Max at eighteen.”
“Oh my God,” Sophie says immediately. “The hair.”
Scarlett physically shudders. “Criminal.”
“It was hockey hair,” Piper defends.
“It was a misdemeanor,” Harper corrects.
Sophie nearly spits out her drink laughing. “He thought frosted tips were edgy,” she continues.
“No,” Piper says, already wheezing. “Tell her about the leather bracelet phase.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Trey mutters from the kitchen.
“ABSOLUTELY yes,” Scarlett says. “He wore one for like eight months and kept calling everyone sweetheart.”
“That explains so much,” Harper says dryly. I laugh before I can stop myself.A dangerous mistake.
Because every female head in the room turns toward me simultaneously like wolves spotting weakness.
“There it is,” Scarlett says. “She likes him.”
“I do not.”
“She laughed,” Sophie informs the room.
“At Max,” I clarify, taking another sip of wine. “You’re all deeply annoying.”
“Still counts,” Piper says.
“And yet,” Harper says, “you came back after benching him.”
Fair point. I ignore it aggressively. Piper shifts toward me conspiratorially. “Okay, but genuinely? He’s ridiculous with the kids.”My ovaries might just explode.
