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“Society?” She snorted. “Over sixty percent of marriages end in divorce. And how long were those people together before they even got married?”
“Are you a proponent for marriage or against it?” I asked in wry amusement.
“I’m a proponent for happiness. For following your own path. For choosing someone who may not have been the person you thought you were going to wind up with.”
I paused and then chugged the rest of my drink. “What you’re saying makes a lot of sense. I blame tequila for that.”
She grinned, revealing the dimple in her left cheek.
I was just drunk enough to lean over and place my finger in it. “If you and Zip have babies, there’s a good chance they’ll get that dimple.”
She giggled and swatted my hand away and then reached for her buzzing cell phone on the kitchen table.
“Hospital?” I asked.
She shook her head, her sorrel brown ponytail still high on her head after her shift. Joni hadn’t gone home to change out of her puppy dog patterned scrubs before coming over. Pediatric nurse. She definitely looked the part.
“Darcy—she’s married to Gray. Have you met Gray?” When I shook my head, she went on, “Anyway. She was wondering if she could come over and hang out.”
“Oh, sure.”
“She’s bringing Rachel and Allison. Two other Old Ladies,” she explained. “They’re dying to get a look at you.”
“Why?”
“Woman, please,” Joni said with a laugh.
“I guess that means we should make another pitcher of margaritas.”
Twenty minutes later, the three of them showed up. They greeted Cheese and then tromped inside, boisterous, big-haired, heavily made-up, and tattooed. They were a lively, warm bunch and filled the silent house with their laughter and jokes.
When we were three margaritas in and everyone’s cheeks were flushed, Darcy asked, “You mean to tell me you have no tattoos? Not one?” Though she was in her forties, she had the body of a thirty-year-old.
“Nope, no tattoos,” I said. “How many do you have?”
“Five,” she answered.
“Wow.”
“They’re addictive,” Rachel added. The pretty brunette pulled up the short sleeve of her T-shirt to show me a scrawled tattoo of her man’s name, Reap.
I reached out and touched the ink. “You don’t feel…branded?”
“It’s not a one-way street, ya know,” Darcy said. “Gray has my name on his chest.”
“Yep, and Reap has my name on his…” Rachel trailed off as her face went a shade of poinsettia red.
We all laughed, but the ladies kept their attention on me.
“I think Colt would enjoy seeing his name on your butt,” Joni said.
“You do know that’s your brother you’re talking about right? And no man’s name is ever going on my butt,” I said lightly.
Joni and Darcy exchanged a look. “You should tell her how you and Gray got together. She’s a bit of a non-believer.” Joni winked.
“I’m not a non-believer,” I protested. “I just don’t understand how it’s all or nothing.”
“That’s kind of the way of the Blue Angels,” Rachel said. “They live by different rules.”
