Desperate Chances

I grinned, “Now they’re all pet names and baby talk. It’s nauseating.”


Maysie patted my knee. “Now we just need to find someone for you so we can all be nauseating together,” she teased. I instantly tensed and pulled away slightly.

“I’m fine on my own,” I remarked dismissively. “Who needs a guy when I’ve got Friday nights full of General Hospital marathons and Chinese takeout?”

“Damn, that sounds pretty freaking fantastic! Where do I sign up?” Maysie laughed. “But seriously, I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t fine on your own. We’re modern women after all. We don’t need a man.”

“But you have a man, don’t forget,” I reminded her with my patented Gracie Cook everything-is-fine-here smile plastered all over my mug. I flicked my hair over my shoulder. “Besides he has to be super hot and saves puppies in his spare time for me to even bother.”

“Well of course,” Maysie agreed, patting my knee.

“Well of course what?” Vivian asked, coming out from her bedroom.

“That was a quick conversation. Did Cole even have a chance to put his hands in his pants?” I asked, tongue in cheek.

Vivian pursed her lips. “They were on their way to get something to eat. He said he’d call me later.”

“How did he seem?” I asked after she sat down on the chair opposite us.

“He seemed okay. He mentioned that Josh had called Mitch earlier and given him some advice but Cole didn’t get into specifics.”

Mitch. Ugh. Cue stomach clenching and butterflies.

“Oh. Well that’s good. Josh is a great guy,” I said lamely. Josh was Mitch’s cousin who had helped schedule Generation Rejects’ very first tour years ago. He had been working in the music industry for long enough to know the ropes.

“Let’s talk about something more upbeat,” Vivian remarked, changing the subject abruptly. “How about the wedding? Have you and Jordan finally set a date?” she asked Maysie.

Maysie ducked her head and started playing with a piece of string on the hem of her shirt. “Well it’s hard to plan a wedding when we’re on the road all the time,” she excused and Vivian and I both groaned.

“Come on! You’ve been engaged for forever! Are you going to be one of those couples who won’t get married until you have grandkids?” I asked her, nudging her knee with mine.

Maysie threw her hands up in the air. “I’m surrounded by men most of the time and Jordan is zero help! We know we want to get married this summer. Probably in August. But every time I try to talk to him about it all he says is ‘whatever you want, baby.’” We all started laughing at Maysie’s dead on imitation of her fiancé.

“What about your mom? Could she help you?” Vivian asked hesitantly. Maysie’s relationship with her parents was rocky. It was one of the things that had always connected us. We both understood what it was like to dislike your parents as much as you loved them.

“She’s happy for me, I guess. Though it’s hard to know behind that thin layer of disapproval. It’s difficult to ask for wedding planning help when I’m fending off the usual when are you going to do something with your life questions. Apparently running the band’s social media platforms, maintaining their website and interfacing with the marketing department of the record label isn’t good enough for her. And let’s not even bring up my dad’s feelings about my life,” Maysie huffed.

“Well, we’d love to help you. Hello! Flowers, decorations, cake tasting! I’m all over it,” I enthused.

Vivian was practically bouncing up and down in her chair. “Oh my god, Mays, let us help you! We’ll make it fabulous!”

Maysie face split into a large grin. “You girls are the best. What would I do without you?”

“Get married on the tour bus, and then eat pizza and drink Bud Light at your reception?” I offered.

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