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“Both,” she admits with a wink. “Besides, I had a feeling you might need a friend right about now to give you a little push. And look at that. I was right.” She laughs half-heartedly. “But whatever happens this week, I want you to remember that you’ve got people in your corner.” She pauses, offering me one of her earnest smiles. “People who love you.”

Warmth blooms in my chest at the sincerity in her voice.

“Thank you.” I smile back just as affectionately. “That means a lot.”

“Good. I’m glad. Now, I’ll wait until you get your pretty little ass in the car. Need to make sure you don’t pussy out.”

“I hate that expression.” I frown. “It’s not feminist at all.”

“Are you sure? Because pussy is one of my favorite words. It’s right up there with fuck and cock. Just saying.”

“Doesn’t negate the fact that the expression belittles our gender as a whole. It makes us sound weak. We are not weak, Cathie.”

“You’re right. We’re not. Fine, let me come up with some good alternatives then.” She shrugs her shoulders like she’s gearing up for a fight. “Get your ass in the car before you… dick out? No, that doesn’t work.” She scrunches up her nose. “Balls out? Scrotum out? Yeah, that sucks too.” She sighs dramatically. “Well, slap me sideways, you’re right. There’s no equivalent for dudes. Isn’t that some patriarchal bullshit right there?!”

“Told you.” I grin triumphantly, having proved my point.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Less talking, more driving.” She points toward the road. “Vroom, vroom.” I laugh because only Cathie could get me out of my own head so easily.

Once I’ve slid back into the driver’s seat, I place my phone on the mount, conscious of how closely she’s watching my every move.

“Got any good music for the rest of the ride? No. Of course you don’t. I’m sending you a playlist now,” she says, before picking up an iPad from her kitchen counter, her fingers flying across its keys.

A second later, a notification pops up on my phone. I open the link and land on a playlist with the entire discography of Scarlett Price, one of the hottest singers topping the charts right now. She has one of those voices that makes you stop whatever you’re doing and simply listen. Every lyric feels personal. Like she’s lived every word she sings. But that’s not the reason Cathie wants me to listen to Scarlett Price.

“No one will ever accuse you of being subtle.” My smile comes out small.

“That’s me.” She grins. “Subtlety is overrated. But come on! She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Cathie gushes, her attention fixed on her tablet instead of me. “No matter what she’s been through, the woman’s the full package.”

“Got a little girl crush, do you?” I tease, not wanting to think about the true reason behind Cathie’s music selection.

“Hey, hot is hot. And I appreciate hot.” She giggles, still scrolling. “Oh, look at that. She’s even related to President Lincoln Hamilton. Some distant cousin, apparently. Figures. He’s a smoke show too. Must be in the genes.”

“Makes sense. Isn’t she from Asheville? It’s a pretty elitist place.”

“Hmm… elitist is the last word I’d use to describe Scarlett.” Cathie continues on her doom scrolling, leaving me staring at the top of her head. “Jesus!” She jerks back in surprise. “Have you seen her husband? Easton Price? Dear Lord Almighty. Now that’s hot with a capital H.” I laugh at her excitement.

When it comes down to it, Cathie might appreciate attractiveness in every gender. Still, she’s always had a particular weakness for a good-looking man. Or, as she likes to call them—man candy.

“I bet he’s lovely.”

“The word is hot, babe.” She emphasizes the word with a dramatic flourish. “Like… smoking.” She studies the screen intently as she continues scrolling through what I can only assume are photos of Scarlett and her husband. Then she gasps. “Wait! Hold the phone!” She shoots upright. “Scratch everything I just said.” Her jaw practically hits the floor. “Easton’s dad…” Another beat. “Hotter.” She points enthusiastically at the screen. “Yes, please and thank you. I’d like one of those delivered to my house. STAT.”

“You do know your husband can hear you, right?” I warn when I catch a glimpse of Wade walking into the kitchen behind her.

“He knows the woman he married.” She waves a dismissive hand, her attention never wavering from the screen. “Daddy Richard Price.” She fans herself dramatically. “Yes, please. The things I’d let that man do to me.” I snort. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind a little father-and-son action.”

“Oh, my God.” I cover my face. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“What?” She shrugs. “I’m at that age where I’d happily go for the dad or the son.” She shrugs again. “It’s an extraordinary place to be. Sue me.”

“Ahem.” Wade clears his throat, wrapping his tattooed arms around his wife’s waist. “What are we talking about?”

Without a shred of shame, Cathie tilts the screen toward her husband’s face so he can admire the same two men she’d been ogling at.

“Tell me that bringing these two into our bedroom wouldn’t be insanely hot?”

Wade laughs. “Baby, I love you with all my heart, but that shit isn’t happening.”