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“You don’t have to worry, we like you already,” she said.
I almost choked on my mimosa.
“Also, we heard that you made some of the best pasta on planet Earth, so we’re definitely going to have to taste that,” Freya added.
I hadn’t seen her walk in.
“Oh, definitely,” Macy added.
“We’ll have a dinner party,” Freya decided.
“At our house,” Caroline said.
I blinked at her, at how all of these women had noted my exit and took it upon themselves to come in to make me feel comfortable.
“I’ll make brownies,” Freya grinned.
I was going to try to argue. To tell them that I likely wasn’t going to be around long enough to attend dinner parties, but I got the idea that that would go how it went when I told Swiss I was leaving. Well, kind of differently, but the same result.
So, kind of like how I did with Swiss, I submitted to these women. Let them welcome me in.
I hadn’t realized it at the time, but the women had come into the kitchen to make me comfortable—and tipsy—enough to make it back into the large common room where everyone was hanging out.
Swiss found me the moment I walked back into the room, listening to Freya and Macy try to figure out the best day for the dinner party.
He walked over and kissed my head. “You okay, baby?” he asked, low enough for only me to hear.
I nodded once, not quite sure whether I was lying or not.
Somehow, he sensed that and walked us to the sofas where everyone settled next to their respective husbands and ‘shot the shit.’
At some point, the men disappeared behind double doors with ‘church’ scrawled above it.
This had me perplexed for a second. I hadn’t seen any religious paraphernalia anywhere—they had a wall of framed mugshots for goodness’ sake, mugshots that also could’ve doubled as GQ covers—no one had said grace when we sat down to eat, and there was no sign of a god of any kind being a ruling force in this club.
“It’s a place where they all meet, discuss club business,” Macy offered, nodding to where I was staring, obviously seeing my confusion.
“Mandatory once a week,” she continued. “After brunch.”
“Something that we decided was also mandatory,” Freya said, adjusting the baby at her hip.
I nodded, wondering what exactly constituted ‘club business,’ but I didn’t think it was wise to ask. The fact that the men conducted such business from behind closed doors told me that it was private.
“So you’ve got to tell us about you and Swiss,” Macy urged, patting the spot beside her on the sofa.
Her two boys were running around the room, screaming in glee at whatever game they were playing. Caroline and Jagger’s toddler was chasing them, also screaming in glee.
I sat down on reflex more than anything else.
“Oh, yes,” Freya agreed, somehow managing to top up my mimosa—it was basically just orange colored champagne at this point—without spilling a drop with the baby on her arm. “I am dying to know about how you two met.”
Caroline sat down beside me. “We have been placing bets on who was going to be next,” she offered.
“I won,” Macy announced with a wide smile.
“I really thought you were bonkers for putting your money on Swiss of all people,” Freya smirked, settling Eva down in the playpen they’d set up. She brushed her dark brown head tenderly before coming back to join us.
“I’m a romantic,” Macy told her. “Plus, I had a feeling it was his time.”
