“Mourning looks like whatever you want it to look like,” Naomi insisted. She had changed out of her clothes and was wearing red thermal pajama shorts with a matching long-sleeve shirt and fuzzy, knee-high socks.
“It can be getting drunk and going sledding at 1:00 a.m. Or it can be pizza, cookies, and a binge watch of Cougar Town,” Lina said. She too had changed into pajamas, but hers were silky and black. Her fuzzy flip-flops had delicate puffs of fake fur that Meow Meow was glaring at from the center of the breakfast nook table. I wandered over and stroked a hand down the cat’s back. She flipped over onto her side with a grumpy grunt and grudgingly accepted my affection.
“You’re not seriously abandoning snowstorm sex with your men just to spend the night with me, are you?” I asked my friends.
“You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” Naomi insisted, nudging a margarita in my direction.
“I like being alone,” I argued. Being alone meant not having to pretend to be okay. Being alone meant not having to be messy and emotional in front of any witnesses.
“You’re welcome to be alone with us,” Lina announced.
“I thought you’d be on my side.”
Her smile was sharp and her eyes sparkled. “You have no one to blame but yourself. You and Naomi forced me to give up my lone she-wolf ways.”
“Technically, first prize in that endeavor goes to Nash. But Sloane and I did earn the silver medal,” Naomi agreed.
“So you’re saying I’m trapped in this codependent circle?” I asked, picking up the proffered margarita.
Lina nodded. “Pretty much. You might as well surrender now.”
The pizza did smell good. And it would probably be rude if I didn’t have at least a little tequila. “Well, since you’re already here…”
Lina dumped two slices onto a paper plate and held it out. I took it and sneaked a warm, cheesy bite while my friends plated their own meals.
The doorbell chimed again.
“Go away,” I called.
But I was drowned out by Naomi and Lina cheerfully yelling, “Come in!”
We were all halfway to the door when it opened and Naomi’s best friend, Stefan Liao, and his biker barber boyfriend, Jeremiah, strolled inside. With his sweater and blazer, Stef looked as if he’d just finished a photo shoot for a New England old-money fashion label. Jeremiah, on the other hand, looked more like a hot, hipster biker with a man bun, scarred boots, tight denim, and a David Bowie T-shirt.
“Ladies. I see you’ve started without us,” Stef said.
“I told you the dress code was casual,” Naomi teased.
“You look like your rich uncle Bartholomew has a yacht docked in Martha’s Vineyard,” I observed.
“You know Stef. He doesn’t do casual,” Jeremiah said with affection as they both shrugged out of their coats.
“There’s nothing wrong with looking good. Now, I believe I was promised a margarita the size of my face,” Stef said.
“Someone’s got good taste,” Jeremiah said, plucking Lucian’s coat from the closet.
“Well, well, well. Who does this beauty belong to?” Stef demanded, stroking a hand over the cashmere.
Shit.
“No one,” I said quickly.
“Is that Burberry?” Lina asked, reaching for the label. “Please tell me you’re sleeping with someone who has really good taste.”
I should have just left his damn coat on his damn kitchen counter.
Naomi buried her face in the fabric. “So soft! And it smells amazing.” Her head came up, a frown pinching her mouth. “And familiar.”
Stef, Jeremiah, and Lina each took a whiff.
“Lucian,” they said together.
All eyes returned to me.
I turned my back on them and took my margarita and pizza into the living room, a space crowded with mismatched furniture, a six-foot fireplace with actual marble angels holding up the mantel, and built-in cabinetry crammed with family history.
My friends followed on my heels like a flock of rabid ducklings.
“Please tell me I’ll find his pants upstairs under your bed,” Lina said.
“Please tell me you can barely walk because he unleashed his undiluted reservoir of manly testosterone on you,” Stef demanded.
“Please tell me you two finally realized how you really feel about each other!” Naomi squealed.
I dropped onto a striped wingback chair that had been worn teddy bear soft by two decades of family rear ends, placing my dinner and drink on the brass-topped side table. “Oh my God, weirdos. He gave me his coat to wear this morning because it was cold and he wanted me to stay warm enough to listen to him yell at me.”
Naomi gasped. “He yelled at you at your father’s funeral?”
“That sounds about right,” Jeremiah said.
Lina winced. “Yeah, he’s not exactly known for being warm and fuzzy at the office.”
“The man would yell at me at his own funeral,” I pointed out.
“This story just took a lame, nonnude turn. I’m getting that margarita,” Stef announced and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
“What was he yelling at you about? Do you want me to kick his ass at work tomorrow?” Lina asked.
Lina had quit her often dangerous, always-on-the-road job as an insurance investigator and was now consulting part-time with Lucian’s team while she and Nash planned their wedding.
“I can ‘accidentally’ shave his head next time he comes in for a cut,” Jeremiah offered.
“I’d rather do the ass kicking and head shaving myself. What does his research team research anyway? Ways to torture baby pandas?” I asked Lina, hoping to change the subject.
“I haven’t been brought into the inner sanctum yet. But so far, no signs of baby panda torture.” She settled herself into the pilled blue armchair in front of the fireplace and draped her legs over one arm.
Naomi perched on the couch and neatly arranged the coasters on the wood plank coffee table between stacks of books and trays of candles.
Stef returned with two gallon-sized margaritas and handed one to Jeremiah. They joined Naomi on the couch, Jeremiah comfortably slinging an arm around Stef’s shoulders. Everyone stared at me expectantly.
If they wanted a story about Lucian, they’d come to the wrong woman. “What?” I asked snarkily.
“We’ll give you two options. You can either talk about your dad, or you can talk about Suit Daddy,” Stef said.
“I think I want to start a family.” I blurted out the words and then immediately shoved half a slice of pizza into my mouth to prevent me from speaking again.
Lina choked on her margarita.
“Option number three then,” Jeremiah said, eyebrows winging high.
“What made you start thinking about that?” Naomi asked.
I shrugged and continued to chew aggressively.
“Don’t answer. We’ll guess,” Stef offered. “Let’s see. Sloane decided it’s time to start a family because she’s already pregnant by a time-traveling Italian billionaire.”
“I see you gave that audiobook I recommended a try,” I said around the pizza in my mouth.
“Maybe it’s just that she’s in her late thirties and a well-meaning gynecologist said it’s ‘now or never,’” Naomi offered, glancing down at her plate.
“Bingo,” Lina said and pointed at Naomi with her pizza crust. “See, Stef. You and Jer have penises, which fire sperm. Sperm doesn’t have the kind of expiration date that eggs do. The longer we wait to have kids, the harder it can be to conceive. If you were heterosexually inclined, you could be firing full test into the vaginas of twentysomethings on your eightieth birthday.”
Stef grimaced and took a dramatic sip of margarita. “Uh, gross.”
“Do you want to start a family, or do you feel like you should start a family?” Naomi asked me.
“I think I want to,” I said. “I held my cousin’s baby at the funeral today, and it must have kick-started my dormant ovaries or something. Mom and Dad wanted nothing more than to have a big, messy, intergenerational family. But Dad only got to enjoy one grandkid before he died because I was too busy being awesome at my job.”
“Guilt isn’t a great reason to start a family, my sexy little librarian,” Stef pointed out.
Jeremiah nodded. “I’ve gotta agree with Stef. And not just because we’re dating. Family is a big deal.”