“Is there really nothing you can do?” Rowan asked.
I lifted my drink. “Drink heavily?”
Presley lifted hers too. “I’m here for you.” We both sipped. “I’m sorry, Magnolia. I’m furious on your behalf.”
I nodded, taking another swallow of my drink that turned out to be absolutely delicious. “Subject closed. No more talk about that worthless worm who is not my father, thank all the gods ever in existence.”
“Yes, I’m glad you vented to us, Magnolia. He’s a piece of dog doo who doesn’t deserve any more of our girls’ night,” Rowan said. “Presley, The Bean Counter was packed the other day when I stopped by before work.”
“Same thing every time I went this week,” Chloe said, “which, come to think of it, was pretty much every day. You’re killing it, my friend.”
“It’s going better than I even hoped for,” Presley said. “And thank you for supporting us.”
“It’s not out of the goodness of my heart,” Chloe said. “It’s just good coffee. I don’t know how we lived before.”
“My favorite is the gingerbread latte,” Rowan said. “With real whipped cream.”
Talk shifted to Presley’s wedding for a few minutes, and then when Luke’s name came up regarding the barn, Rowan said, “Speaking of Luke…” She turned her head very deliberately to me. “Word on the street is that you and he are an official thing. Like, out in public, seen holding hands, all the things. You’ve been holding out on us.”
“Luke and I…are an official thing,” I said, shrugging but unable to keep a big smile off my face. “It’s early days, and he’s so busy right now that our time together is never long enough, but…yeah. It’s good so far.”
“I never thought I’d see the day,” Chloe said. “There was so much tension between you two.”
“You know what they say about love and hate,” Presley said.
Rowan grinned and nodded. “So you can put all that pent-up emotion for…how long did you hate him?”
“We had a falling out when I was seventeen,” I said.
“That’s a lot of pent-up emotion to put into sexy times,” Rowan said.
“And a lot of time to make up for,” I said. “And we’re trying.” I told them how he invited me for dinner a few times and how he visited me several nights a week after Addie went to bed.
Rowan brought out a tray of finger foods—mozzarella-stuffed pretzel bites and ham-and-cheese biscuit bites—and we covered a bunch of topics, like where their guys were tonight, Chloe’s Thanksgiving with all the Norths and all the Henrys at Faye and Simon Henry’s new lake house, and Presley’s soon-to-be stepdaughters’ brand-new bedrooms in her home.
“How’s your mom doing, Magnolia?” Rowan asked. “Have you heard from her?”
“Oh,” I said, sitting up straighter and taking a large gulp of martini number two. “Are you guys sick of my drama yet? Because there’s more.”
“Not sick of it at all,” Presley said. “There’s more since Felix got booted?”
“You’re looking at the new owner of Lansford Development.”
“Uh, Magnolia? You didn’t lead with that?” Chloe asked. “What the hell?”
“You own a bajillion-dollar company? Right now?” Presley asked.
“Well, half of it,” I said flippantly. Because I might be the owner, but I hadn’t taken ownership of any of it, and I had no intention of doing so. “My grandfather died of a heart attack Monday. He apparently changed everything in his will and in the company after my mom told him she was divorcing Felix.”
“To make you the owner of a company you have no interest in,” Presley clarified.
“With my mother who I have no relationship with.” I drank more, craving the thick, creamy sweetness.
“Does she want it?”
I laughed. “Not even a little bit.”
“This is so out there,” Rowan said. “If you made it into a movie, people would say it’s too farfetched.”
