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“Well, the wedding was at least good, wasn’t it?”
Jennifer had just wandered into the kitchen and reappeared with a dreamy look in her eye and a bag of cat food. “Oh! It was amazing,” she said. “Come with me to feed Avocado and Bacon and then I can show you the pics on my camera.”
I couldn’t keep from laughing. “You know if you name the stray cats then they become your cats, Jen.”
She wrinkled her nose at me. “I don’t like cats.”
“You literally have cat food in your hand.”
“Well, I’m not going to let them starve,” she said as if that made sense.
We wandered outside and she filled two small bowls at the front of the house. I thought it was ridiculous that she was feeding two cats that didn’t even belong to her. But despite her insistence that she didn’t like cats, she clearly loved these cats. She’d named them, for God’s sake.
“Cado! Bakey!” she called.
And out of the bushes came a black cat, Bacon, and an orange and white cat, Avocado.
“Here you go, guys,” Jennifer said. The cats avoided her and went straight for the food. She stood as if all of this was totally normal. “Okay, my camera?”
I shook my head and followed her back inside. She disappeared into her room as I observed the wreckage with a sigh. I was going to need to go shopping or else I’d start and end my last semester of medical school with what I had in my room right this minute. Because there would be no time to go otherwise.
Jennifer reappeared with her fancy Canon Rebel and scrolled through the hundreds of images she’d taken at the wedding in Sedona this weekend. Over the last three years, she’d really embraced her photography. And as I’d always known she would be, she was now a coveted travel photographer. During the busy season, we never saw each other. Passing like boats in the breeze as I lived at the medical school all week and she darted off to unknown destinations every weekend. I’d be jealous of how much she traveled if I wasn’t so damn proud of her.
A knock on the door pulled us away from the pictures, and before I could even jump up, the handle twisted, and my best friend, Sutton Wright, entered. We’d known each other since we were babies and grown up together from diapers to cheerleading uniforms to Texas Tech to now with her walking into my house without an invitation.
“Hey, girlie,” Sutton said.
Her smile was bright, and her hair was a lighter blonde than it had been in a decade. All the Wrights had dark hair and eyes. It was almost jarring to see her blonde, but she loved it.
“Sut!” I said with a smile. “Did you come over to take me shopping?”
Sutton laughed and shook her head. “Soccer game, remember?”
I groaned. “Right. I almost forgot. Where are Madison and Jason?”
Sutton had a five-year-old, Jason, with her first husband, Maverick. He’d passed away four years ago now. I’d been there when it happened. It was half of the reason that I was in medical school. I’d sworn that I’d never stand by and not be able to do anything ever again.
Sut had remarried last year, and within nine months, she’d had her second baby, Madison. She was the most gorgeous kid I’d ever seen. She could be one of those baby models. I was the godmother and always itched to hold the little ball of sunshine.
“They’re with David.” She put her hands to her chest. “I had to pump all afternoon to make sure we had milk. I didn’t have enough stocked up. Ugh! My boobs!”
Jennifer and I laughed.
“Your boobs look amazing,” I told her.
“They do, don’t they?” Sutton said, sticking her chest out. “I’ve always had such tiny boobs. I’ll be sad when these go away.”
Jennifer shook her head. “You could get a boob job.”
Sutton pointed at her. “Good idea.”
“Let me see if my soccer bag made it through the flood,” I told them and then headed back to my room.
I checked my phone along the way to see if Jordan had texted. But of course, he hadn’t. I didn’t even know why I cared. It had been one night. Just like last time. I’d been stupid to expect something then, and I wasn’t going to be that stupid again.
My bag wasn’t in my room, which was a relief, but that meant I didn’t know where it was. I stepped into the garage, popped open the trunk of my car, and dug around until I found the bag. When I opened it, the smell from my last game a month ago wafted up to me. I cringed away.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Good news: it hadn’t been ruined by the flood.
Bad news: I’d been so worried about finals last semester that laundry slipped my mind.
