By the timewe end up in the hot tub that night, I’ve almost convinced myself that everything is fine.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Everett kept his distance—professionally civil, carefully neutral. Exactly the way we're supposed to be. If Roman, Caleb, or Nolan noticed anything weird about the axe throwing confrontation, they haven't mentioned it.
Crisis averted.
Disaster dodged.
I am a master of denial and I will die on this hill.
“You're coming, right?” Holly appears at my elbow, already wrapped in a fluffy robe. “Hot tub. Girls only. Dixie smuggled champagne.”
“I don't know...” I glance toward the back deck, where steam curls into the cold night air. “I'm pretty tired.”
“You're pretty avoidant.” Holly links her arm through mine. “And you're coming anyway. Charlie's already out there threatening to tell pregnancy horror stories if we don't provide adequate distraction.”
“That's blackmail.”
“That's motherhood.” She tugs me toward the stairs. “Get your suit.”
Ten minutes later, I sink into the hot tub and let the jets assault every clenched muscle.
Holly's already soaking, champagne in hand.
Eve slides in beside her with a groan that borders on indecent.
Dixie makes a noise that's fully indecent as the heat hits her shoulders.
“Oh my God.” Dixie tips her head back against the edge. “I needed this.”
Charlie watches us from her blanket throne—a patio lounger she's transformed into a pregnancy fortress with approximately nine layers of fleece. A thermos of something steaming is clutched in her mittened hands.
Where have I seen this before.
“I got it, you look like the Bernie meme.” The minute the words leave my mouth, Charlie aims a death stare at me.
“I hate all of you,” she announces.
“Bernie looked like he hated everyone too. You’re in character.”
Charlie’s mouth opens only to have whatever retort burning on the tip of her tongue thwarted by Eve.
“You could dangle your feet?” Eve offers.
“Nick would have a coronary.” Charlie burrows deeper into her cocoon. “He's already convinced thebaby's going to fall out if I breathe wrong. Hot tub would send him straight to the ER with a heart attack.”
“Speaking of men having cardiac events.” Holly's eyes slide to me over the rim of her champagne glass. “Sierra. Babe.”
I know that look. That's thespill everything or I'll waterboard you with this bottle of Veuve Clicquotlook.
“What?” I try for casual. Fail spectacularly.
“What wasthattoday?” Eve leans forward, water sloshing. “After the axe throwing? You and Everett disappeared behind the equipment shed and came back looking like you got hip whipped straight into traffic.”
“I’ve seen people dug out of avalanches that looked better,” Dixie adds.
“We just talked.”
Four sets of eyes level at me with varying degrees ofbitch, please.
