“Call it an educated guess,” she said. “Also, you have bruises and hickeys all over your chest.”
I glanced down. “I do not.”
She jabbed a finger into the side of my boob. “Yes. You do. Also, your legs look like you’ve been manhandled. You’d tell me if these weren’t enthusiastically consensual, correct?”
I groaned when I shifted my cover-up and spotted all the tiny bite marks on my breasts. “Oh my god.”
“Did he laugh inappropriately the whole time? Just giggled his sweet little rocks off?”
“He did not.” I gazed at the fingertip bruises up and down my thighs. I wanted to tell her about the tarot cards and washcloths and all the condoms we went through. But I also wanted to lock it away. “Did lake guy talk about corpses the whole time?”
“Yeah, but I was into it. New kink unlocked. Very sexy.”
I tossed an almond at her. It landed on the brim of her hat. “I guess we can say that dress has what it takes.”
“I’m crediting the bra,” she said. “Tits for the win.”
“Another successful season, then?”
She grabbed the almond and popped it in her mouth. “Any more successful and a few days at the spa wouldn’t be nearly enough recuperation. I’d need a ten-day course of antibiotics and some pelvic floor physical therapy to recover.”
I held up my sparkling water and she did the same. “To weddings,” I said.
She tapped her glass to mine. “May they continue to provide us the mischief—and mindless sex—we lack in our everyday lives.”
We drank and lapsed into a drowsy silence. The hills in the distance were the color of toast and I had the distinct sense they’d feel like it too. We were only a couple of hours from Tahoe, but everything was different. No shimmering blue, no pine trees reaching up to touch the sky.
“Do you think we have it wrong?” Meri shifted to face me, her gauzy caftan bunching and tangling around her legs. “Have we been doing it wrong all this time?”
I watched as she dragged her teeth over her lower lip. Whatever she was thinking, it was big. I could think of only ahandful of times when I’d seen Meri unsure of anything. “Doing what wrong?”
“Everything? Nothing? I don’t know.” She jerked a shoulder up. “But what if there’s a point when we have to stop having mindless sex? What if we’re actually supposed to put energy into connecting with people and building relationships rather than banging random dudes at other people’s weddings? I just have this prickly sense that we made a mistake along the way and we’re so far down this road now that we don’t even realize we’re lost.” Pressing a hand to her chest, she added solemnly, “Maybe it’s just acid reflux.”
“I don’t think we’re the ones who have it wrong. All the focus is put on finding someone, getting married, starting a family—and prioritizing that relationship above everything else. As if this one person could be everything you could possibly need for the rest of your life. We know that’s not how it works. We know that guys are fun, but true friends are forever.” I reached over, gave her hand a good squeeze. “And it’s also acid reflux. Please tell me you’re taking something for that and not singeing your esophagus.”
She laughed, saying, “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m just”—she flopped onto her back, her profusely freckled arms hanging limply off the lounge chair—“I’m thinking too hard. That’s all.”
“Are you sure?” I wanted her to say yes. I wanted her to tell me she was in a mood—probably because spooky lake guy hadn’t been up for all of her bedroom adventures—and that she was all right. I wanted to know that she wasn’t sliding back into that dark place, just like the one she’d been in all those years ago when I’d dragged her off for a vacation and accidentally crashed a wedding. Selfishly, I wanted to know that she wasn’t looking at our long-standing resolution against dating and the hunt for Mr. Right with fresh, critical eyes. “Thinking aboutdownloading some apps? Interested in giving the talking phase another chance?”
“Are you kidding me? No way.” She held up her glass again. “Single ladies for life.”
I breathed a low sigh of relief and tapped my glass to hers. “Single ladies for life.”
Four
Henry
Transplant Surgery Rotation:
Day 1, Week 1
September
I jumpedinto a pair of trousers in the dark. Questionably clean, but it didn’t matter that much. I’d be in scrubs before noon. It wasn’t like anyone was going to call me out for wrinkled pants during rounds. I could turn on the lights and dress myself like a grown-ass adult, but that would force me to admit I wasn’t still in bed, and I was a big fan of lying to myself. I enjoyed nothing more than pretending I was asleep when it was four thirty in the morning and I was already late for work.
“Yeah, it was an epic climb.” Mason’s voice came through the speakerphone, fracturing the fragile détente between me and my lies. “Definitely one of my favorite expeditions of the year. Such a good group. The kind of people I would’ve hiked with even if they weren’t paying me to get them up and back again. I hopethe group I’m leading on Wednesday has the same vibes. You would’ve loved it, man.”
“I’m sure of it.” I pinned the phone between my fingers as I buttoned my shirt on the short walk into the kitchen. “Hey, so, what’s up with the other photos I asked you about?”
